[s]he Stood For Some Moments Gazing At

Every Idiot Who Goes About With A 'merry Christmas' On His Lips Should Be Boiled With His Own Pudding, And Buried With A Stake Of Holly Through His Heart.

And Still I Stood Looking At The House, Thinking How Happy I Should Be If I Lived There With Her, And Knowing That I Never Was Happy With Her, But Always Miserable.

... No, The Office Is One Thing, And Private Life Is Another. When I Go Into The Office, I Leave The Castle Behind Me, And When I Come Into The Castle, I Leave The Office Behind Me.

She Was Too Intent Upon Her Work, And Too Earnest In What She Said, And Too Composed And Quiet Altogether, To Be On The Watch For Any Look He Might Direct Towards Her In Reply; So The Shaft Of His Ungrateful Glance Fell Harmless, And Did Not Wound Her.

The Sun,--the Bright Sun, That Brings Back, Not Light Alone, But New Life, And Hope, And Freshness To Man--burst Upon The Crowded City In Clear And Radiant Glory. Through Costly-coloured Glass And Paper-mended Window, Through Cathedral Dome And Rotten Crevice, It Shed Its Equal Ray.