Three Jolly Huntsmen, In Coats

A Lost But Happy Dream May Shed Its Light Upon Our Waking Hours, And The Whole Day May Be Infected With The Gloom Of A Dreary Or Sorrowful One; Yet Of Neither May We Be Able To Recover A Trace.

And Some Win Peace Who Spend The Skill Of Words To Sweeten Despair Of Finding Consolation Where Life Has But One Dark End.

An Hour's Terror Is Better Than A Lifetime Of Timidity.

A Harvest Mouse Goes Scampering By, With Silver Claws And Silver Eye; And Moveless Fish In The Water Gleam, By Silver Reeds In A Silver Stream.

It Was A Pity Thoughts Always Ran The Easiest Way, Like Water In Old Ditches.