There Is Not Room For Death, Nor

Tis Moonlight, Summer Moonlight, All Soft And Still And Fair; The Solemn Hour Of Midnight Breathes Sweet Thoughts Everywhere, But Most Where Trees Are Sending Their Breezy Boughs On High, Or Stooping Low Are Lending A Shelter From The Sky. And There In Those Wild Bowers A Lovely Form Is Laid; Green Grass And Dew-steeped Flowers Wave Gently Round Her Head.

I See Heaven's Glories Shine And Faith Shines Equal.

A Good Heart Will Help You To A Bonny Face, My Lad And A Bad One Will Turn The Bonniest Into Something Worse Than Ugly.

The Night Is Darkening Round Me, The Wild Winds Coldly Blow; But A Tyrant Spell Has Bound Me, And I Cannot, Cannot Go.

I Am Now Quite Cured Of Seeking Pleasure In Society, Be It Country Or Town.