Remorse is virtue's root; its fair increase is fruits of innocence and blessedness.
William C. BryantThe melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods and meadows brown and sear.
William C. BryantThe 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.
William C. Bryant