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Good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow.
Good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow.
We have not to talk, but to steer the vessel.
We have not to talk, but to steer the vessel.
Now, my sere fancy "falls into the yellow
Leaf," and imagination droops her pinion;
And the sad read more
Now, my sere fancy "falls into the yellow
Leaf," and imagination droops her pinion;
And the sad truth, which hovers o'er my desk,
Turns what was once romantic to burlesque.
Men would be angels, angels would be gods.
Men would be angels, angels would be gods.
It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Three helping one another, beare the burthen of sixe.
Three helping one another, beare the burthen of sixe.
When war is raging the laws are dumb.
When war is raging the laws are dumb.
