O, It Is Excellent To Have A

Every Offense Is Not A Hate At First.

He Is Dead And Gone, Lady, He Is Dead And Gone; At His Head A Grass-green Turf, At His Heels A Stone.

Of All The Flowers, Me Thinks A Rose Is Best.

Slander Lives Upon Succession, For Ever Housed Where It Gets Possession.

Oh, God! I Have An Ill-divining Soul!