I Remember, I Remember The Roses, Red

Fuss Is The Froth Of Business.

Half Of The Failures In Life Come From Pulling One's Horse When He Is Leaping.

When Was Ever Honey Made With One Bee In A Hive?

So Mayst Thou Live, Dear! Many Years, In All The Bliss That Life Endears

I Saw Old Autumn In The Misty Morn Stand Shadowless Like Silence, Listening To Silence, For No Lonely Bird Would Sing Into His Hollow Ear From Woods Forlorn, Nor Lowly Hedge Nor Solitary Thorn;- Shaking His Languid Locks All Dewy Bright With Tangled Gossamer That Fell By Night, Pearling His Coronet Of Golden Corn.