The Heart-sick Faintness Of The Hope Delayed!

Adversity Is, To Me At Least, A Tonic And A Bracer.

Warriors! And Where Are Warriors Found, If Not On Martial Britain's Ground? And Who, When Waked With Note Of Fire, Love More Than They The British Lyre?

Cats Are A Mysterious Kind Of Folk.

It Is More Difficult To Look Upon Victory Than Upon Battle.

O Woman! In Our Hours Of Ease Uncertain, Coy, And Hard To Please, And Variable As The Shade By The Light Quivering Aspen Made; When Pain And Anguish Wring The Brow, A Ministering Angel Thou!