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

No sun, no moon, no morn, no noon, No dawn, no dusk, no proper time of day, . . . . . . No road, no street, no t' other side the way, . . . . . . No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no buds.

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.

How bravely Autumn paints upon the sky The gorgeous fame of Summer which is fled!

A moment's thinking is an hour in words.

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

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