The Year's In Wane; There Is Nothing

Some Dreams We Have Are Nothing Else But Dreams, Unnatural And Full Of Contradictions; Yet Others Of Our Most Romantic Schemes, Are Something More Than Fictions.

And There Is Even A Happiness That Makes The Heart Afraid.

Dear Bells! How Sweet The Sound Of Village Bells When On The Undulating Air They Swim!

What Joy Have I In June's Return? My Feet Are Parched-my Eyeballs Burn, I Scent No Flowery Gust; But Faint The Flagging Zephyr Springs, With Dry Macadam On Its Wings, And Turns Me 'dust To Dust.'

There Are Three Things Which The Public Will Always Clamour For, Sooner Or Later; Namely: Novelty, Novelty, Novelty.