Thou shalt not laugh, thou shalt not romp, Let's grimly kiss with bated breath; As quietly and solemnly As Life when it is kissing Death.

From my own kind I only learn How foolish comfort is

They sniffed, poor things, for their green fields, They cried so loud I could not sleep: For fifty thousand shillings down I would not sail again with sheep.

The collier's wife had four tall sons Brought from the pit's mouth dead, And crushed from foot to head