It is when we think we lead that we are most led.
'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark our coming, and look brighter when we come.
A small drop of ink makes thousands, perhaps millions... think.
Grief is fantastical, and loves the dead, And the apparel of the grave.
By Heaven! it is a splendid sight to see For one who hath no friend, no brother there.
But beef is rare within these oxless isles; Goat's flesh there is, no doubt, and kid, and mutton; And, when a holiday upon them smiles, A joint upon their barbarous spits they put on.