O Let Me Be Awake, My God!

That Agony Returns; And Till My Ghastly Tale Is Told, This Heart Within Me Burns.

Indignation At Literary Wrongs I Leave To Men Born Under Happier Stars. I Cannot Afford It.

I Am Never Very Forward In Offering Spiritual Consolation To Any One In Distress Or Disease. I Believe That Such Resources, To Be Of Any Service, Must Be Self-evolved In The First Instance. I Am Something Of The Quaker's Mind In This, And Am Inclined To Wait For The Spirit.

All Nature Seems At Work. Slugs Leave Their Lair The Bees Are Stirring, Birds Are On The Wing, And Winter Slumbering In The Open Air, Wears On His Smiling Face A Dream Of Spring.

He Prayeth Best Who Loveth Best.