I Am The Family Face; Flesh Perishes,

It Was Still Early, And The Sun's Lower Limb Was Just Free Of The Hill, His Rays, Ungenial And Peering, Addressed The Eye Rather Than The Touch As Yet.

Christmas Eve, And Twelve Of The Clock. "now They Are All On Their Knees," An Elder Said As We Sat In A Flock By The Embers In Hearth-side Ease. We Pictured The Meek Mild Creatures Where They Dwelt In Their Strawy Pen, Nor Did It Occur To One Of Us There To Doubt They Were Kneeling Then. So Fair A Fancy Few Would Weave In These Years! Yet, I Feel If Someone Said On Christmas Eve, "come; See The Oxen Kneel, In The Lonely Barton By Yonder Coomb Our Childhood Used To Know," I Should Go With Him In The Gloom, Hoping It Might Be So.

O, You Have Torn My Life All To Pieces... Made Me Be What I Prayed You In Pity Not To Make Me Be Again!

The Beauty Or Ugliness Of A Character Lay Not Only In Its Achievements, But In Its Aims And Impulses; Its True History Lay, Not Among Things Done, But Among Things Willed.

There's A Friendly Tie Of Some Sort Between Music And Eating.