acles,
His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate,
His tears pure messengers sent from his heart,
His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth.
_Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act ii. Sc. 7_. SHAKESPEARE.

An honest tale speeds best being plainly told.
_King Richard III., Act iv. Sc. 4_. SHAKESPEARE.

Were there no heaven nor hell
I should be honest.
_Duchess of Malfi, Act i. Sc. 1_. J. WEBSTER.

SKY.

One of those heavenly days that cannot die.
_Nutting_. W. WORDSWORTH.

Green calm below, blue quietness above.
_The Pennsylvania Pilgrim_ J.G. WHITTIER.

The soft blue sky did never melt
Into his heart; he never felt
The witchery of the soft blue sky!
_Peter Bell_. W. WORDSWORTH.

But now the fair traveller's come to the west,
His rays are all gold, and his beauties are best;
He paints the skies gay as he sinks to his rest,
And foretells a bright rising again.
_A Summer Evening_. DR. I. WATTS.

How bravely Autumn paints upon the sky
The gorgeous fame of Summer which is fled!
_Written in a Volume of Shakespeare_. T. HOOD.

Of evening tinct,
The purple-streaming Amethyst is thine.
_Seasons: Summer_. J. THOMSON.

Heaven's ebon vault,
Studded with stars unutterably bright,
Through which the moon's unclouded grandeur rolls,
Seems like a canopy which love has spread
To curtain her sleeping world.
_Queen Mab, Pt. IV_. P.B. SHELLEY.

This majestical roof fretted with golden fire.
_Hamlet, Act ii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

SLEEP.

Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy Sleep!
He, like the world, his ready visit pays
Where fortune smiles; the wretched he forsakes:
Swift on his downy pinions flies from woe,
And lights on lids unsullied with a tear.
_Night Thoughts, Night I_. DR. E. YOUNG.

Thou hast been called, O sleep! the friend of woe;
But 'tis the happy that have called thee so.
_Curse of Kehama, Canto XV_. R. SOUTHEY.

Sleep seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,
It is a comforter.
_The Tempest, Act ii. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

Weariness
Can snore upon the flint, when restive sloth
Finds the down pillow hard.
_Cymbeline, Act iii Sc. 6_. SHAKESPEARE.

O magic sleep! O comfortable bird,
That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind
Till it is hushed and smooth!
_Endymion, Bk. I_. J. KEATS.

Sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye,
Steal me awhile