O Month When They Who Love Must

The New Is Older Than The Old; And Newest Friend Is Oldest Friend In This: That, Waiting Him, We Longest Grieved To Miss One Thing We Sought.

Nothing Can Be So Bad As To Be Displeased With One's Self.

Still Lie The Sheltering Snows, Undimmed And White; And Reigns The Winter's Pregnant Silence Still; No Sign Of Spring, Save That The Catkins Fill, And Willow Stems Grow Daily Red And Bright. These Are Days When Ancients Held A Rite Of Expiation For The Old Year's Ill, And Prayer To Purify The New Year's Will.

Stain My Eyes As I May, On All Sides All Is Black.

O Sweet, Delusive Noon, Which The Morning Climbs To Find, O Moment Sped Too Soon, And Morning Left Behind.