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.

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.

Apothegms form a short cut to much knowledge.

But evil is wrought by want of thought, As well as want of heart!

Fuss is the froth of business.

O bed! O bed! delicious bed! That heaven upon earth to the weary head.

Coquetry is the champagne of love.