Where's The Snow That Fell The Year

The Neck On Which Diamonds Might Have Worthily Sparkled, Will Look Less Tempting When The Biting Winter Has Hung Icicles There For Gems.

To Return After Long Years Of Painful Absence To Some Place Which Has Been The Scene Of Our Former Joys, And Whence The Force Of Circumstance, And Not Choice, Has Driven Us, Is Oppressive To The Heart.

There Was A Place In Childhood That I Remember Well, And There A Voice Of Sweetest Tone Bright Fairy Tales Did Tell.

For Dhrames Always Go By Conthraries, My Dear.

Sure The Shovel And Tongs To Each Other Belongs.