She Stood Breast-high Amid The Corn Clasp'd

How Bless'd The Heart That Has A Friend. A Sympathizing Ear To Lend.

No Shade, No Shine, No Butterflies, No Bees, No Fruits, No Flowers, No Leaves, No Birds - November!

Extremes Meet', As The Whiting Said With Its Tail In Its Mouth.

My Tears Must Stop, For Every Drop Hinders Needle And Thread.

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.