They Have Been Grand-jurymen Since Before Noah

So. Lie There, My Art.

When Words Are Scarce They Are Seldom Spent In Vain.

In Winter's Tedious Nights Sit By The Fire With Good Old Folks, And Let Them Tell Thee Tales Of Woeful Ages, Long Ago Betid

Speak What We Feel, Not What We Ought To Say.

How Lush And Lusty The Grass Looks! How Green!