I Saw Old Autumn In The Misty

How Widely Its Agencies Vary,- To Save, To Ruin, To Curse, To Bless,- As Even Its Minted Coins Express, Now Stamp'd With The Image Of Good Queen Bess, And Now Of A Bloody Mary.

Oh! God! That Bread Should Be So Dear, And Flesh And Blood So Cheap!

Bells Are Musics Laughter.

When He Is Forsaken, Withered And Shaken, What Can An Old Man Do But Die?

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.