Love, To Her Ear, Was But A

What Skilful Limner E'er Would Choose To Paint The Rainbow's Varying Hues, Unless To Mortal It Were Given To Dip His Brush In Dyes Of Heaven?

Oh, Poverty Parts Good Company.

Still From The Sire The Son Shall Hear Of The Stern Strife, And Carnage Drear, Of Flodden's Fatal Field, When Shiver'd Was Fair Scotland's Spear, And Broken Was Her Shield!

Tell That To The Marines - The Sailors Won't Believe It.

Many Of Our Cares Are But A Morbid Way Of Looking At Our Privileges