Vacant Heart, And Hand, And Eye, Easy

Cats Are A Very Mysterious Kind Of Folk. There Is Always More Passing In Their Minds Than We Are Aware Of.

Despite Those Titles, Power, And Pelf, The Wretch, Concentred All In Self, Living, Shall Forfeit Fair Renown, And, Doubly Dying, Shall Go Down To The Vile Dust, From Whence He Sprung, Unwept, Unhonor'd, And Unsung.

We Are Like The Herb Which Flourisheth Most When It Is Most Trampled On.

But Search The Land Of Living Men, Where Wilt Thou Find Their Like Again?

Merrily, Merrily Goes The Bark On A Breeze From The Northward Free, So Shoots Through The Morning Sky The Lark, Or The Swan Through The Summer Sea.