And there is even a happiness That makes the heart afraid.

To attempt to advise conceited people is like whistling against the wind.

She stood breast-high amid the corn Clasp'd by the golden light of morn, Like the sweetheart of the sun, Who many a glowing kiss had won.

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

Our very hopes belied our fears, Our fears our hopes belied; We thought her dying when she slept, And sleeping when she died.

How bless'd the heart that has a friend. A sympathizing ear to lend.

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