It Was A Childish Ignorance,

Peace And Rest At Length Have Come, All The Day's Long Toil Is Past; And Each Heart Is Whispering, "home, Home At Last!"

He Lies Like A Hedgehog Rolled Up The Wrong Way, Tormenting Himself With His Prickles.

A Name, It Has More Than Nominal Worth, And Belongs To Good Or Bad Luck At Birth

Well, Something Must Be Done For May, The Time Is Drawing Nigh-- To Figure In The Catalogue, And Woo The Public Eye. Something I Must Invent And Paint; But Oh My Wit Is Not Like One Of Those Kind Substantives That Answer Who And What?

When Was Ever Honey Made With One Bee In A Hive?