An Old Novel Has A History Of

An Old Novel Has A History Of Its Own.

How Beautiful The Yesterday That Stood Over Me Like A Rainbow! I Am Alone, The Past Is Past. I See The Future Stretch All Dark And Barren As A Rainy Sea.

The Pleased Sea On A White-breasted Shore-- A Shore That Wears On Her Alluring Brows Rare Shells, Far Brought, The Love-gifts Of The Sea, That Blushed A Tell-tale.

Pride's Chickens Have Bonny Feathers, But They Are An Expensive Brood To Rear. They Eat Up Everything, And Are Always Lean When Brought To Market.

The Dead Keep Their Secrets, And In A While We Shall Be As Wise As They - And As Taciturn.