They Hear A Voice In Every Wind,

The Attic Warbler Pours Her Throat, Responsive To The Cuckoo's Note, The Untaught Harmony Of Spring.

If The Best Man's Faults Were Written On His Forehead, He Would Draw His Hat Over His Eyes.

England, So Long Mistress Of The Sea, Where Winds And Waves Confess Her Sovereignty, Her Ancient Triumphs Yet On High Shall Bear And Reign The Sovereign Of The Conquered Air.

Implores The Passing Tribute Of A Sigh.

How Low, How Little Are The Proud, How Indigent The Great!