The Lily Is All In White, Like

There Are Three Things Which The Public Will Always Clamour For, Sooner Or Later; Namely: Novelty, Novelty, Novelty.

Boughs Are Daily Rifled By The Gusty Thieves, And The Book Of Nature Getteth Short Of Leaves.

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

I Remember, I Remember The Fir-trees Dark And High; I Used To Think Their Slender Tops Were Close Against The Sky; It Was A Childish Ignorance, But Now 't Is Little Joy To Know I'm Farther Off From Heaven Than When I Was A Boy.

I Remember, I Remember, The House Where I Was Born, The Little Window Where The Sun Came Peeping In At Morn.