Whate’er there be of Sorrow

To-day, whatever may annoy, The word for me is Joy, just simple Joy.

For me, my craft is sailing on, Through mists to-day, clear seas anon. Whate’er the final harbor be ’T is good to sail upon the sea!

"May the Christmastide bear you to the highest level of your desires, and the ebbing year leave you stranded upon the Golden Shores of Peace, Prosperity and Happiness"

Ye blushing virgins happy are In the chaste nunnery of her breasts— For he'd profane so chaste a fair, Whoe'er should call them Cupid's nests.

For see the rosy May draws nigh; She claims a virgin queen; And hark, the happy shepherds cry, 'Tis Kate of Aberdeen.

So venerable, so majestic, is this living temple of justice, this immemorial and yet freshly growing fabric of the Common Law, that the least of us is happy who hereafter may point to so much as one stone thereof and say, The work of my …