How Beautiful, How Buoyant, And Glad Is

The Wind Has A Language, I Would I Could Learn! Sometimes 'tis Soothing, And Sometimes 'tis Stern, Sometimes It Comes Like A Low Sweet Song, And All Things Grow Calm, As The Sound Floats Along, And The Forest Is Lull'd By The Dreamy Strain, And Slumber Sinks Down On The Wandering Main, And Its Crystal Arms Are Folded In Rest, And The Tall Ship Sleeps On Its Heaving Breast.

To This Hour, The Great Science And Duty Of Politics Is Lowered By The Petty Leaven Of Small And Personal Advantage.

It Is A Curious Fact, But A Fact It Is, That Your Witty People Are The Most Hard-hearted In The World. The Truth Is, Fancy Destroys Feeling. The Quick Eye To The Ridiculous Turns Every Thing To The Absurd Side; And The Neat Sentence, The Lively Allusion, And The Odd Simile, Invest What They Touch With Something Of Their Own Buoyant Nature. Humor Is Of The Heart, And Has Its Tears; But Wit Is Of The Head, And Has Only Smiles - And The Majority Of Those Are Bitter.

Childhood, Whose Very Happiness Is Love.

Ah, Tell Me Not That Memory Sheds Gladness O'er The Past, What Is Recalled By Faded Flowers, Save That They Did Not Last?