No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds - November!
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.
But evil is wrought by want of thought, As well as want of heart!
There is not a string attuned to mirth but has its chord of melancholy.
When was ever honey made with one bee in a hive?
Some dreams we have are nothing else but dreams, Unnatural and full of contradictions; Yet others of our most romantic schemes, Are something more than fictions.