Is It Not Meningitis?

Jo's Breath Gave Out Here, And Wrapping Her Head In The Paper, She Bedewed Her Little Story With A Few Natural Tears, For To Be Independent And Earn The Praise Of Those She Loved Were The Dearest Wishes Of Her Heart, And This Seemed To Be The First Step Toward That Happy End.

...for A Girl With Eyes Like Hers Has A Will And Is Not Ruled By Anyone But A Lover.

Oft In The Silence Of The Night, When The Lonely Moon Rides High, When Wintry Winds Are Whistling, And We Hear The Owl's Shrill Cry, In The Quiet, Dusky Chamber, By The Flickering Firelight, Rising Up Between Two Sleepers, Comes A Spirit All In White.

So She Enjoyed Herself Heartily, And Found, What Isn't Always The Case, That Her Granted Wish Was All She Had Hoped.

The Humblest Tasks Get Beautified If Loving Hands Do Them.