Strange as it may seem, the most ludicrous lines I ever wrote have been written in the saddest mood.
His wit invites you by his looks to come, But when you knock, it never is at home.
No wisdom that she may gain by experience and reflection hereafter, will compensate the loss of her present hilarity.
Absence of occupation is not rest.
...So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
O Winter! ruler of the inverted year, . . . I crown thee king of intimate delights, Fireside enjoyments, home-born happiness, And all the comforts that the lowly roof Of undisturbed Retirement, and the hours Of long uninterrupted evening, know.