My Book And Heart Shall Never Part.

It Is A Beautiful Trait In The Lover's Character, That They Think No Evil Of The Object Loved.

Does Not All The Blood Within Me Leap To Meet Thee, Leap To Meet Thee, As The Springs To Meet The Sunshine.

Think Of Your Woods And Orchards Without Birds! Of Empty Nests That Cling To Boughs And Beams As In An Idiot's Brain Remembered Words Hang Empty 'mid The Cobwebs Of His Dreams!

To Be Left Alone, And Face To Face With My Own Crime, Had Been Just Retribution.

Shepherds At The Grange, Where The Babe Was Born, Sang With Many A Change, Christmas Carols Until Morn.