"You are old, Father William." the young man cried

He came to ask what he had found, That was so large, and smooth, and round.

"In my days of youth, I remembered my God, And he hath not forgotten my age."

If you would be pungent, be brief ; for it is with words as with sunbeams—the more they are condensed, the deeper they burn.

It was a summer evening, Old Kaspar's work was done, And he before his cottage door Was sitting in the sun, And by him sported on the green His little grandchild Wilhelmine.

Cold is thy heart and as frozen as Charity!

"'Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he, "Who fell in the great victory."