Thomas Haynes Bayly quotes:

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Prolonged absence makes the heart forget.

Surely 't is better, when summer is over To die when all fair things are fading away.

I'd be a butterfly; living a rover, Dying when fair things are fading away.

Fear not, but trust in Providence, Wherever thou may'st be.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Tell me the tales that to me were so dear, Long, long ago, long, long ago.

The mistletoe hung in the castle hall, The holly branch shone on the old oak wall.

We met, 'twas in a crowd, and I thought he would shun me.

She wore a wreath of roses, The night that first we met.

Friends depart, and memory takes them To her caverns, pure and deep.

Absence makes the heart go fonder

Oh, pilot! 'tis a fearful night, There's danger on the deep.

Those that have wealth must be watchful and wary, Power, alas! naught but misery brings!

The rose that all are praising Is not the rose for me.

Fly away, pretty moth, to the shade Of the leaf where you slumbered all day; Be content with the moon and the stars, pretty moth, And make use of your wings while you may. . . . . But tho' dreams of delight may have dazzled you quite, They at last found it dangerous play; Many things in this world that look bright, pretty moth, Only dazzle to lead us astray.

I'm saddest when I sing.

O give me new figures! I can't go on dancing The same that were taught me ten seasons ago; The schoolmaster over the land is advancing, Then why is the master of dancing so slow? It is such a bore to be always caught tripping In dull uniformity year after year; Invent something new, and you'll set me a skipping: I want a new figure to dance with my Dear!

Oh! where do fairies hide their heads, When snow lies on the hills, When frost has spoiled their mossy beds, And crystallized their rills?

Oh, I have roamed o'er many lands, And many friends I've met; Not one fair scene or kindly smile Can this fond heart forget.

Where's the hope that can abate The grief of hearts thus desolate That can Youth's keenest pangs assuage, And mitigate the gloom of Age? Religion bids the tempest cease, And, leads her to a port of peace; And on, the lonely pilot steers Through the lapse of future years.

Why don't the men propose, Mamma? Why don't the men propose?