Two Is The Beginning Of The End.

Forget Not Your Past, For In The Future It May Help You Grow

Pan, Who And What Art Thou?" He Cried Huskily. "i'm Youth, I'm Joy," Peter Answered At A Venture, "i'm A Little Bird That Has Broken Out Of The Egg.

All The Boys Were Grown Up And Done For By This Time; So It Is Scarcely Worth While Saying Anything More About Them. You May See The Twins And Nibs And Curly Any Day Going To An Office, Each Carrying A Little Bag And An Umbrella. Michael Is An Engine Driver. Slightly Married A Lady Of Title, And So He Became A Lord. You See That Judge In A Wig Coming Out At The Iron Door? That Used To Be Tootles. The Bearded Man Who Doesn't Know Any Story To Tell His Children Was Once John.

Some Of My Plays Peter Out And Some Pan Out.

Oh, You Mysterious Girls, When You Are Fifty-two We Shall Find You Out; You Must Come Into The Open Then. If The Mouth Has Fallen Sourly Yours The Blame: All The Meanness Your Youth Concealed Have Been Gathering In Your Face. But The Pretty Thoughts And Sweet Ways And Dear, Forgotten Kindnesses Linger There Also, To Bloom In Your Twilight Like Evening Primroses.