I Know The Lands Are Lit, With

Gazing Around, Looking Up At The Lofty Pinnacles Above, Which Seemed To Pierce The Sky, Looking Down Upon The World,--it Seemed The Whole World, So Limitless It Stretched Away At Her Feet,--feeling That Infinite Unspeakable Sense Of Nearness To Heaven, Remoteness From Earth Which Comes Only On Mountain Heights, She Drew In A Long Breath Of Delight, And Cried: "at Last! At Last, Alessandro! Here We Are Safe! This Is Freedom! This Is Joy!

Most Men Call Fretting A Minor Fault, A Foible, And Not A Vice. There Is No Vice Except Drunkenness Which Can So Utterly Destroy The Peace, The Happiness Of A Hoe.

For April Sobs While These Are So Glad April Weeps While These Are So Gay,- Weeps Like A Tired Child Who Had, Playing With Flowers, Lost Its Way.

When Time Is Spent, Eternity Begins.

Wounded Vanity Knows When It Is Mortally Hurt; And Limps Off The Field, Piteous, All Disguises Thrown Away. But Pride Carries Its Banner To The Last; And Fast As It Is Driven From One Field Unfurls It In Another, Never Admitting That There Is A Shade Less Honor In The Second Field Than In The First, Or In The Third Than In The Second.