Life Went A-maying With Nature,

An Idea, In The Highest Sense Of That Word, Cannot Be Conveyed But By A Symbol.

It Is A Flat'ning Thought, That The More We Have Seen, The Less We Have To Say.

How Like Herrings And Onions Our Vices Are In The Morning After We Have Committed Them.

Our Quaint Metaphysical Opinions, In An Hour Of Anguish, Are Like Playthings By The Bedside Of A Child Deathly Sick.

An Orphan's Curse Would Drag To Hell, A Spirit From On High; But Oh! More Horrible Than That, Is A Curse In A Dead Man's Eye!