For My Part, Getting Up Seems Not

There Is Not A String Attuned To Mirth But Has Its Chord Of Melancholy.

Ben Battle Was A Soldier Bold, And Used To War's Alarms, But A Cannon-ball Took Off His Legs, So He Laid Down His Arms.

For My Part, Getting Up Seems Not So Easy By Half As Lying.

I Saw Old Autumn In The Misty Morn Stand Shadowless Like Silence, Listening To Silence, For No Lonely Bird Would Sing Into His Hollow Ear From Woods Forlorn, Nor Lowly Hedge Nor Solitary Thorn;- Shaking His Languid Locks All Dewy Bright With Tangled Gossamer That Fell By Night, Pearling His Coronet Of Golden Corn.

Some Minds Improve By Travel, Others, Rather, Resemble Copper Wire, Or Brass, Which Get The Narrower By Going Farther.