Never A Tear Bedims The Eye That

Nobody Shoulders A Rifle In Defense Of A Boarding House.

Each Lost Day Has Its Patron Saint!

The Delicate Thought, That Cannot Find Expression, For Ruder Speech Too Fair, That, Like Thy Petals, Trembles In Possession, And Scatters On The Air.

Never A Tear Bedims The Eye That Time And Patience Will Not Dry.

If, Of All Words Of Tongue And Pen, The Saddest Are, It Might Have Been,' More Sad Are These We Daily See: 'it Is, But Hadn't Ought To Be!'