Flowers spring up unsown and die ungathered.

Is not thy home among the flowers?

The gay will laugh When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care Plod on, and each one as before will chase His favourite phantom; yet all these shall leave Their mirth and their employments, and shall come, And make their bed with thee.

The hushed winds their Sabbath keep.

Pain dies quickly, and lets her weary prisoners go; the fiercest agonies have shortest reign.

And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief.

A herd of prairie-wolves will enter a field of melons and quarrel about the division of the spoils as fiercely and noisily as so many politicians.