Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, - While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping.

“Row more slowly,” bellowed the old, bony crone.

"He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound's the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake." - Robert Frost

Roy ran in the raging rain.

I like to decline an offer of wine to define my style.

Betty Botter bought some butter, "But," she said, "the butter's bitter;

Fred wondered why the road wound to a jagged end.

"I might like to take a flight to an island in the sky."

“Wait,” whispered Wendy, her gaze wandering wistfully.

"A duck that clucked drove a truck into an aqueduct."

“She sells seashells by the seashore.”

My puppy punched me in the eye.