He talks of his old friends who have taken their departure before him with a perfect simplicity, while I have seen the tears gather and suddenly Overbrim his eyes.
"The Silent Isle"
Arthur Christopher Benson
"The Old Sweet-Apple-Tree," a stalwart, stood In fairly sympathetic neighborhood Of this wild princeling with his early gold To toss about so lavishly nor hold In bounteous hoard to Overbrim at once All Nature's lap when came the Autumn months.
"A Child-World"
James Whitcomb Riley