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

When Eve upon the first of Men The apple press'd with specious cant, Oh! what a thousand pities then That Adam was not Adamant!

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

There are three things which the public will always clamour for, sooner or later; namely: novelty, novelty, novelty.

And ye, who have met with Adversity's blast, And been bow'd to the earth by its fury; To whom the Twelve Months, that have recently pass'd Were as harsh as a prejudiced jury - Still, fill to the Future! and join in our chime, The regrets of remembrance to cozen, And having obtained a New Trial of Time, Shout in hopes of a kindlier dozen.

No blessed leisure for love or hope, But only time for grief.

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