If Thou Would'st Have Me Sing And

No Eye To Watch, And No Tongue To Wound Us, All Earth Forgot, And All Heaven Around Us.

No One Ever Regarded The First Of January With Indifference. It Is That From Which All Date Their Time, And Count Upon What Is Left. It Is The Nativity Of Our Common Adam.

She Unbent Her Mind Afterwards - Over A Book.

It Is Well If The Good Man Himself Does Not Feel His Devotions A Little Clouded, Those Foggy Sensuous Steams Mingling With And Polluting The Pure Altar Surface.

We Are Nothing; Less Than Nothing, And Dreams. We Are Only What Might Have Been.