Regrets Are The Natural Property Of Grey

To Be Shelterless And Alone In The Open Country, Hearing The Wind Moan And Watching For Day Through The Whole Long Weary Night; To Listen To The Falling Rain, And Crouch For Warmth Beneath The Lee Of Some Old Barn Or Rick, Or In The Hollow Of A Tree; Are Dismal Things - But Not So Dismal As The Wandering Up And Down Where Shelter Is, And Beds And Sleepers Are By Thousands; A Houseless Rejected Creature.

It Opens The Lungs, Washes The Countenance, Exercises The Eyes, And Softens Down The Temper; So Cry Away.

To A Young Heart Everything Is Fun.

The Secret Was Such An Old One Now, Had So Grown Into Me And Become A Part Of Myself, That I Could Not Tear It Away.

I Am In The Theatrical Profession Myself, My Wife Is In The Theatrical Profession, My Children Are In The Theatrical Profession.i Had A Dog That Lived And Died In It From A Puppy; And My Chaise-pony Goes On, In Timour The Tartar.