It 's Guid To Be

Not The Bee Upon The Blossom, In The Pride O' Sunny Noon; Not The Little Sporting Fairy, All Beneath The Simmer Moon; Not The Poet, In The Moment Fancy Lightens In His E'e, Kens The Pleasure, Feels The Rapture, That Thy Presence Gi'es To Me.

I'm Truly Sorry Man's Dominion Has Broken Nature's Social Union.

The Landlord's Laugh Was Ready Chorus.

And Wild-scatter'd Cowslips Bedeck The Green Dale.

Apropos, Is Not The Scotch Phrase 'auld Lang Syne' Exceedingly Expressive? I Shall Give You The Verses On The Other Sheet. The Words Of 'auld Lang Syne' Are Good, But The Music Is An Old Air, The Rudiments Of The Modern Tune Of That Name. ... Dare To Be Honest And Fear No Labor. ... Opera Is Where A Man Gets Stabbed In The Back, And Instead Of Dying, He Sings. ... Chords That Vibrate Sweetest Pleasure Thrill The Deepest Notes Of Woe. ... Critics! Those Cut-throat Bandits In The Paths Of Fame.