There is a silence where hath been no sound, There is a silence where no sound may be,- In the cold grave, under the deep, deep sea, Or in the wide desert where no life is found.

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.

To attempt to advise conceited people is like whistling against the wind.

O men with sisters dear, O men with mothers and wives, It is not linen you 're wearing out, But human creatures' lives!

Gold! gold! gold! gold! Bright and yellow, hard and cold!

Oh! God! That bread should be so dear, and flesh and blood so cheap!

Ben Battle was a soldier bold, and used to war's alarms, But a cannon-ball took off his legs, so he laid down his arms.