Sigh No More Ladies, Sigh No More,

The Tongues Of Dying Men Enforce Attention Like Deep Harmony.

I Know A Bank Where The Wild Thyme Blows, Where Oxlips And The Nodding Violet Grows, Quite Over-canopied With Luscious Woodbine, With Sweet Musk-roses And With Eglantine.

He's Truly Valiant That Can Wisely Suffer The Worst That Man Can Breathe, And Make His Wrongs His Outsides, To Wear Them Like His Raiment, Carelessly, And Ne'er Prefer His Injuries To His Heart, To Bring It Into Danger.

A Sad Tale's Best For Winter. I Have One Of Sprites And Goblins.

Haply A Woman's Voice May Do Some Good When Articles Too Nicely Urged Be Stood On.