The biggest bore of all is he who is overflowing with congratulations

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.

Boughs are daily rifled By the gusty thieves, And the book of Nature Getteth short of leaves.

The best of friends fall out, and so his teeth had done some years ago.

Oh would I were dead now, Or up in my bed now, To cover my head now, And have a good cry!

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.

Well for the drones of the social hive that there are bees of an industrious turn, willing, for an infinitesimal share of the honey, to undertake the labor of its fabrication.