Tears And Sorrows And Losses Are A

With Spots Of Sunny Openings, And With Nooks To Lie And Read In, Sloping Into Brooks.

Bread, Milk And Butter Are Of Venerable Antiquity. They Taste Of The Morning Of The World.

Colors Are The Smiles Of Nature. When They Are Extremely Smiling, And Break Forth Into Other Beauty Besides, They Are Her Laughs.

Wit Is The Clash And Reconcilement Of Incongruities; The Meeting Of Extremes Round A Corner.

We Lose In Depth Of Expression When We Go To Inferior Animals For Comparisons With Human Beauty. Homer Calls Juno Ox-eyed; And The Epithet Suits Well With The Eyes Of That Goddess, Because She May Be Supposed, With All Her Beauty, To Want A Certain Humanity. Her Large Eyes Look At You With A Royal Indifference.