Extremes meet', as the whiting said with its tail in its mouth.

I saw old autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like silence, listening To silence.

Experience enables me to depose to the comfort and blessing that literature can prove in seasons of sickness and sorrow.

I remember, I remember The fir-trees dark and high; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky; It was a childish ignorance, But now 't is little joy To know I'm farther off from heaven Than when I was a boy.

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

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

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