And some young country miss Giving her lad a kiss, Quite certain that the olden times were not so good as this. - Eleanor Farjeon

In Fleet Street, in Fleet Street, the People are so fleet They barely touch the cobble-stones with their nimble feet!

Women are so strangely constructed that they have in them darkness as well as light, though it be but a little curtain hung across the sun. And love is the hand that takes the curtain down, a stronger hand than fear, which hung it up. For all the ill that is in us comes from fear, and all the good from love.

Upon your shattered ruins where This vine will flourish still, as rare, As fresh, as fragrant as of old. Love will not crumble.