A Christmas gambol oft could cheer The poor man's heart through half the year.

It was woman that taught me cruelty, and on woman therefore I have exercised it.

The Book of Books Within this ample volume lies The mystery of mysteries. Happiest they of human race To whom their God has given grace To read, to fear, to hope, to pray, To lift the latch, to force the way; But better had they ne'er been born That read to doubt or read to scorn.

My hope, my heaven, my trust must be, My gentle guide, in following thee.

On his bold visage middle age Had slightly press'd its signet sage, Yet had not quench'd the open truth And fiery vehemence of youth: Forward and frolic glee was there, The will to do, the soul to dare.

So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like young Lochinvar.

Hurry no man's cattle; you may come to own a donkey yourself