Make Not Thyself The Judge Of Any

Art Is The Child Of Nature In Whom We Trace The Features Of The Mothers Face.

Softly The Evening Came /with The Sunset/.

The Rays Of Happiness, Like Those Of Light, Are Colorless When Unbroken.

Love Contending With Friendship, And Self With Each Generous Impulse. To And Fro In His Breast His Thoughts Were Heaving And Dashing, As In A Foundering Ship.

"do Not Fear! Heaven Is As Near," He Said, "by Water As By Land!"