Better Be Courted And Jilted Than Never

What Millions Died That Caesar Might Be Great!

Britannia Needs No Bulwarks, No Towers Along The Steep; Her March Is O'er The Mountain Waves, Her Home Is On The Deep.

For Beauty's Tears Are Lovelier Than Her Smile.

On The Green Banks Of Shannon, When Sheelah Was Nigh, No Blithe Irish Lad Was So Happy As I, No Harp Like My Own Could So Cheerily Play, And Wherever I Went Was My Poor Dog Tray.

To Live In Hearts We Leave Behind Is Not To Die.