They Say Miracles Are Past.

What Win I, If I Gain The Thing I Seek? A Dream, A Breath, A Froth Of Fleeting Joy. Who Buys A Minute's Mirth To Wail A Week? Or Sells Eternity To Get A Toy? For One Sweet Grape Who Will The Vine Destroy? Or What Fond Beggar, But To Touch The Crown, Would With The Sceptre Straight Be Strucken Down?

A Grandma's Name Is Little Less In Love Than Is The Doting Title Of A Mother.

And Then He Drew A Dial From His Poke, And Looking With Lack-lustre Eye, Says Very Wisely, 'it Is Ten O'clock: Thus We May See', Quoth He, 'how The World Wags: 'tis But An Hour Ago Since It Was Nine, And After One Hour More 'twill Be Eleven; And So From Hour To Hour We Ripe And Ripe, And Then From Hour To Hour We Rot And Rot.

Thy Husband Is Thy Lord, Thy Life, Thy Keeper, Thy Head, Thy Sovereign; One That Cares For Thee, And For Thy Maintenance Commits His Body To Painful Labour Both By Sea And Land, To Watch The Night In Storms, The Day In Cold, Whilst Thou Liest Warm At Home, Secure And Safe; And Craves No Other Tribute At Thy Hands But Love, Fair Looks And True Obedience; Too Little Payment For So Great A Debt.

I Had Rather Hear My Dog Bark At A Crow, Than A Man Swear He Loves Me.