Pluck Not The Wayside Flower; It Is

Scarcely A Tear To Shed; Hardly A Word To Say; The End Of A Summer's Day; Sweet Love Is Dead.

Does Not The Latent Feeling That Much Of Their Striving Is To No Purpose Tend To Infuse Large Quantities Of Sham Into Men's Work?

Round The World And Home Again, That's The Sailor's Way!

The Mother's Kiss Is The Sweetest Thing Ever.

Autumn's The Mellow Time.