Ye think the rustic cackle of your bourg / The murmur of the world. Tennyson.

Ye'll find mankind an unco squad, / And muckle they may grieve ye. Burns.

Yea, let all good things await / Him who cares 25 not to be great, / But as he saves or serves the state. Tennyson.

Yea, surely the sea like a harper laid hand on the shore as a lyre. Swinburne.

Year chases year, decay pursues decay, / Still drops some joy from withering life away. Johnson.

Years do not make sages; they only make old men. Mme. Swetchine.

Years following years steal something every day; / At last they steal us from ourselves away. Pope.

Years steal / Fire from the mind as vigour 30 from the limb, / And life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim. Byron.

Yes, there are things we must dream and dare, / And execute ere thought be half aware. Byron.

Yes, you find people ready enough to do the good Samaritan without the oil and twopence. Sydney Smith.