The Neck On Which Diamonds

To Return After Long Years Of Painful Absence To Some Place Which Has Been The Scene Of Our Former Joys, And Whence The Force Of Circumstance, And Not Choice, Has Driven Us, Is Oppressive To The Heart.

Sure My Love Is All Crostlike A Bud In The Frostand There's No Use At All In My Going To Bed,for 't Is Dhrames And Not Slape That Comes Into My Head!

Reproof On Her Lip, But A Smile In Her Eye.

Where's The Snow That Fell The Year That's Fled--where's The Snow?

A Baby Was Sleeping, Its Mother Was Weeping.