"Fear no more the lightning's flash, Nor the all-dreaded thunder stone;Fear not slander, censure rash-- Thou hast finished joy and moan.All lovers youthful--all lovers must Consign to thee, and come to dust."

"Why do you cry, mother?" exclaimed the little one, climbing on her lap andwiping her tears.

"I was skinnyking of dear Auntie, who is gone from us."