The Peace And Beauty Of A Spring

In The Procession I Should Feel The Crushing Feet, The Clashing Discords, The Ruthless Hands And Stifling Breath. I Could Not Hear The Rhythm Of The March.

The City Atmosphere Certainly Has Improved Her. Some Way She Doesn't Seem Like The Same Woman.

But Whatever Came, She Had Resolved Never Again To Belong To Another Than Herself.

The Voice Of The Sea Speaks To The Soul.

There Was No Despondency When She Fell Asleep That Night; Nor Was There Hope When She Awoke In The Morning.