These Stars Of Earth, These Golden Flowers.

The Air Of Summer Was Sweeter Than Wine.

Silently, One By One, In The Infinite Meadows Of Heaven, Blossomed The Lovely Stars, The Forget-me-nots Of The Angels.

Standing, With Reluctant Feet, Where The Brook And River Meet, Womanhood And Childhood Fleet!

The Picture That Approaches Sculpture Nearest Is The Best Picture.

Where Should The Scholar Live? In Solitude, Or In Society? In The Green Stillness Of The Country, Where He Can Hear The Heart Of Nature Beat, Or In The Dark, Gray Town Where He Can Hear And Feel The Throbbing Heart Of Man?