Meat Eaten Without Either Mirth Or Music

We Build Statues Out Of Snow, And Weep To See Them Melt.

Hard Toil Can Roughen Form And Face, And Want Call Quench The Eye's Bright Grace.

A Rusted Nail, Placed Near The Faithful Compass, Will Sway It From The Truth, And Wreck The Argosy.

"lambe Them, Lads! Lambe Them!" A Cant Phrase Of The Time Derived From The Fate Of Dr. Lambe, An Astrologer And Quack, Who Was Knocked On The Head By The Rabble In Charles The First's Time.

I Am She, O Most Bucolical Juvenal, Under Whose Charge Are Placed The Milky Mothers Of The Herd.