Never go to France Unless you know the lingo, If you do, like me, You will repent, by jingo. - Thomas Hood

Peace and rest at length have come All the day's long toil is past,
And each heart is whispering, "Home, Home at last."

There is a silence where hath been no sound,
There is a silence where no sound may be,—
In the cold grave, under the deep, deep sea,
Or in the wide desert where no life is found.

She stood breast-high amid the corn
Clasped by the golden light of morn,
Like the sweetheart of the sun,
Who many a glowing kiss had won.