It isn’t the thing you do, dear, Its the thing you leave undone That gives you a bit of a heartache At setting of the sun. The tender

There was a child went forth every day, And the first object he look’d upon, that object he became, And that object became part of him for the

Ada hasn’t grown up in a house with a white picket fence. Instead she was cast off and absorbed into the foster care system, quickly putting up a

Hear the sledges with the bells— Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In their icy air of night! While

Blessings on the hand of women! Angels guard its strength and grace, In the palace, cottage, hovel, Oh, no matter where the place; Would that never storms assailed