Brother, Thy Tail Hangs Down Behind.

I Always Prefer To Believe The Best Of Everybody, It Saves So Much Trouble.

Ye May Kill For Yourselves, And Your Mates, And Your Cubs As They Need, And Ye Can; But Kill Not For Pleasure Of Killing, And Seven Times Never Kill Man!

I've A Neater, Sweeter Maiden In A Cleaner, Greener Land!

Till The Master Of All Good Workmen Shall Set Us To Work Anew.

There Are Gems Of Wondrous Brightness Ofttimes Lying At Our Feet, And We Pass Them, Walking Thoughtless, Down The Busy, Crowded Street. If We Knew, Our Pace Would Slacken, We Would Step More Oft With Care, Lest Our Careless Feet Be Treading To The Earth Some Jewel Rare.