The very flowers are sacred to the poor.

Knowing that Nature never did betray the heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege, through all the years of this our life, to lead from joy to joy.

The tears into his eyes were brought, And thanks and praises seemed to run So fast out of his heart, I thought They never would have done. -I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds With coldness still returning; Alas! the gratitude of men Hath oftener left me mourning.

Delight and liberty, the simple creed of childhood.

But who would force the soul tilts with a straw Against a champion cased in adamant

All men feel a habitual gratitude, and something of an honorable bigotry, for the objects which have long continued to please them.

A tale in everything.