Bells Are Musics Laughter.

It Was Not In The Winter Our Loving Lot Was Cast! It Was The Time Of Roses, We Plucked Them As We Passed!

We Watch'd Her Breathing Through The Night, Her Breathing Soft And Low, As In Her Breast The Wave Of Life Kept Heaving To And Fro.

A Name, It Has More Than Nominal Worth, And Belongs To Good Or Bad Luck At Birth

With Fingers Weary And Worn, With Eyelids Heavy And Red, A Woman Sat In Unwomanly Rags, Plying Her Needle And Thread.

Ben Battle Was A Soldier Bold, And Used To War's Alarms, But A Cannon-ball Took Off His Legs, So He Laid Down His Arms.