The Woman Who Creates And Sustains A

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

Wounded Vanity Knows When It Is Mortally Hurt; And Limps Off The Field, Piteous, All Disguises Thrown Away. But Pride Carries Its Banner To The Last; And Fast As It Is Driven From One Field Unfurls It In Another, Never Admitting That There Is A Shade Less Honor In The Second Field Than In The First, Or In The Third Than In The Second.

If I Could Write A Story That Would Do For The Indian One-hundredth Part What 'uncle Tom's Cabin' Did For The Negro, I Would Be Thankful The Rest Of My Life.

O Proudly Name Their Names Who Bravely Sail| To Seek Brave Lost In Arctic Snows And Seas!

For April Sobs While These Are So Glad April Weeps While These Are So Gay,- Weeps Like A Tired Child Who Had, Playing With Flowers, Lost Its Way.