If You Could Say, With Truth, To

She Was More Than Human To Me. She Was A Fairy, A Sylph. I Don't Know What She Was, Anything That No One Ever Saw, And Everything That Everybody Ever Wanted. I Was Swallowed Up In An Abyss Of Love In An Instant. There Was No Pausing On The Brink, No Looking Down, Or Looking Back. I Was Gone, Headlong, Before I Had Sense To Say A Word To Her.

It Is A Far, Far Better Thing That I Do, Than I Have Ever Done; It Is A Far, Far Better Rest That I Go To, Than I Have Ever Known.

Probably Every New And Eagerly Expected Garment Ever Put On Since Clothes Came In, Fell A Trifle Short Of The Wearer's Expectation.

That, They Never Could Lay Their Heads Upon Their Pillows; That, They Never Could Tolerate The Idea Of Their Wives Laying Their Heads Upon Their Pillows; That, They Never Could Endure The Notion Of Their Children Laying Their Heads Upon Their Pillows; In Short, That There Never More Could Be, For Them Or Theirs, Any Laying Of Heads Upon Pillows At All, Unless The Prisoner's Head Was Taken Off.

There Was A Frosty Rime Upon The Trees, Which, In The Faint Light Of The Clouded Moon, Hung Upon The Smaller Branches Like Dead Garlands. Withered Leaves Crackled And Snapped Beneath His Feet, As He Crept Softly On Towards The House. The Desolation Of A Winter Night Sat Brooding On The Earth, And In The Sky. But, The Red Light Came Cheerily Towards Him From The Windows; Figures Passed And Repassed There; And The Hum And Murmur Of Voices Greeted His Ear Sweetly.