Father! father! where are you going?
Oh, do not walk so fast.
Speak, father speak to your little boy,
Or else I shall be lost.
The night was dark, no father was there;
The child was wet with dew;
The mire was deep and the child did weep,
And away the vapor flew.
The little boy lost in the lonely fen,
Led by the wandering light,
Began to cry; but God, ever nigh,
Appeared like his father in white;
He kissed the child, and by the hand led,
And to his mother brought,
Who, in sorrow pale, through the lonely dale,
Her little boy weeping sought.
We are little airy creatures,
All of different voice and features;
One of us in glass is set,
One of us you’ll find in jet.
T’ other you may see in tin,
And the fourth a box within.
If the fifth you should pursue,
It can never fly from you.
Every day brings a ship,
Every ship brings a word;
Well for those who have no fear,
Looking seaward well assured
That the word the vessel brings
Is the word they wish to hear.
I’m up and down, and round about,
Yet all the world can’t find me out;
Though hundreds have employed their leisure,
They never yet could find my measure.
I’m found almost in every garden,
Nay, in the compass of a farthing.
There’s neither chariot, coach, nor mill,
Can move an inch except I will.
Where the bee sucks, there suck I;
In a cowslip’s bell I lie:
There I couch, when owls do cry.
On the bat’s back I do fly,
After summer, merrily:
Merrily, merrily, shall I live now
Under the blossom, that hangs on the bough.
Forgive and forget.
Fortune helps them that help themselves.
Give a thief rope enough, and he’ll hang himself.
Give him an inch, and he’ll take an ell.
Go farther and fare worse.
Good wine needs no bush.
Handsome is that handsome does.
Happy as a king.
Haste makes waste, and waste makes want, and want makes strife between the
good-man and his wife.
He cannot say boo to a goose.
He knows on which side his bread is buttered.
There is dew for the floweret,
And honey for the bee,
And bowers for the wild bird,
And love for you and me.
There are tears for the many,
And pleasure for the few;
But let the world pass on, dear,
There’s love for me and you.