We Weep When We Are Born, Not

O Liberty, White Goddess! Is It Well To Leave The Gates Unguarded? On Thy Breast Fold Sorrow's Children, Soothe The Hurts Of Fate, Lift The Down-trodden, But With Hand Of Steel Stay Those Who To Thy Sacred Portals Come To Waste The Gifts Of Freedom.

With The Tears A Land Hath Shed. Their Graves Should Ever Be Green.

Gracious To All, To None Subservient, Without Offense He Spoke The Word He Meant

I Beg You Come Tonight And Dine A Welcome Waits You And Sound Wine The Roederer Chilly To A Charm As Juno's Breasts The Claret Warm.

What Is More Cheerful, Now, In The Fall Of The Year, Than An Open-wood-fire? Do You Hear Those Little Chirps And Twitters Coming Out Of That Piece Of Apple-wood? Those Are The Ghosts Of The Robins And Blue-birds That Sang Upon The Bough When It Was In Blossom Last Spring. In Summer Whole Flocks Of Them Come Fluttering About The Fruit-trees Under The Window: So I Have Singing Birds All The Year Round.