If An Offense Come Out Of The

In The Ill-judged Execution Of The Well-judged Plan Of Things The Call Seldom Produces The Comer, The Man To Love Rarely Coincides With The Hour For Loving. Nature Does Not Often Say 'see!' To Her Poor Creature At A Time When Seeing Can Lead To Happy Doing; Or Reply 'here!' To A Body's Cry Of 'where?' Till The Hide-and-seek Has Become An Irksome Outworn Game.

You Are Joseph The Dreamer Of Dreams, Dear Jude. And A Tragic Don Quixote. And Sometimes You Are St. Stephen, Who, While They Were Stoning Him, Could See Heaven Opened. Oh, My Poor Friend And Comrade, You'll Suffer Yet!

Yes; Quaint And Curious War Is! You Shoot A Fellow Down You'd Treat If Met Where Any Bar Is, Or Help To Half-a-crown.

It Was The Touch Of The Imperfect Upon The Would-be Perfect That Gave The Sweetness, Because It Was That Which Gave The Humanity

When Yellow Lights Struggle With Blue Shades In Hairlike Lines.