The year's in wane; There is nothing adorning; The night has no eve, And the day has no morning; Cold winter gives warning!

No sun, no moon, no morn, no noon, No dawn, no dusk, no proper time of day, . . . . . . No road, no street, no t' other side the way, . . . . . . No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no buds.

O bed! O bed! delicious bed! That heaven upon earth to the weary head.

No blessed leisure for love or hope, But only time for grief.

I resolved that, like the sun, as long as my day lasted, I would look on the bright side of everything.

Oh, if it be to choose and call thee mine, love, thou art every day my Valentine!

A certain portion of the human race has certainly a taste for being diddled.