They Who Live In History Only Seemed

Nature Paints Not; In Oils, But Frescoes The Great Dome Of Heaven; With Sunsets, And The Lovely Forms Of Clouds; And Flying Vapors.

Life Is The Gift Of God, And Is Divine.

To Be Left Alone, And Face To Face With My Own Crime, Had Been Just Retribution.

All Was Ended Now, The Hope, And The Fear And The Sorrow, All The Aching Of The Heart, The Restless, Unsatisfied Longing, All The Dull, Deep Pain, And Constant Anguish Of Patience!

How Far The Gulf-stream Of Our Youth May Flow Into The Arctic Regions Of Our Lives, Where Little Else Than Life Itself Survives.