The biggest bore of all is he who is overflowing with congratulations
I saw old autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like silence, listening To silence.
The Quaker loves an ample brim, A hat that bows to no salaam; And dear the beaver is to him As if it never made a dam.
A certain portion of the human race has certainly a taste for being diddled.
We watch'd her breathing through the night, Her breathing soft and low, As in her breast the wave of life Kept heaving to and fro.
Oh would I were dead now, Or up in my bed now, To cover my head now, And have a good cry!