The Cowslip Is A Country Wench.

Some Minds Improve By Travel, Others, Rather, Resemble Copper Wire, Or Brass, Which Get The Narrower By Going Farther.

When Was Ever Honey Made With One Bee In A Hive?

There Is A Silence Where Hath Been No Sound, There Is A Silence Where No Sound May Be,- In The Cold Grave, Under The Deep, Deep Sea, Or In The Wide Desert Where No Life Is Found.

What Joy Have I In June's Return? My Feet Are Parched-my Eyeballs Burn, I Scent No Flowery Gust; But Faint The Flagging Zephyr Springs, With Dry Macadam On Its Wings, And Turns Me 'dust To Dust.'

Whoe'er Has Gone Thro' London Street, Has Seen A Butcher Gazing At His Meat, And How He Keeps Gloating Upon A Sheep's Or Bullock's Personals, As If His Own; How He Admires His Halves And Quarters--and His Calves, As If In Truth Upon His Own Legs Grown.