When Yellow Lights Struggle With Blue Shades

A Lover Without Indiscretion Is No Lover At All.

We Learn That It Is Not The Rays Which Bodies Absorb, But Those Which They Reject, That Give Them The Colours They Are Known By; And In The Same Way People Are Specialized By Their Dislikes And Antagonisms, Whilst Their Goodwill Is Looked Upon As No Attribute At All.

Christmas Eve, And Twelve Of The Clock. "now They Are All On Their Knees," An Elder Said As We Sat In A Flock By The Embers In Hearth-side Ease. We Pictured The Meek Mild Creatures Where They Dwelt In Their Strawy Pen, Nor Did It Occur To One Of Us There To Doubt They Were Kneeling Then. So Fair A Fancy Few Would Weave In These Years! Yet, I Feel If Someone Said On Christmas Eve, "come; See The Oxen Kneel, In The Lonely Barton By Yonder Coomb Our Childhood Used To Know," I Should Go With Him In The Gloom, Hoping It Might Be So.

It Was Still Early, And The Sun's Lower Limb Was Just Free Of The Hill, His Rays, Ungenial And Peering, Addressed The Eye Rather Than The Touch As Yet.

The Trees Have Inquisitive Eyes, Haven't They? -that Is, Seem As If They Had. And The River Says,-'why Do Ye Trouble Me With Your Looks?' And You Seem To See Numbers Of To-morrows Just All In A Line, The First Of Them The Biggest And Clearest, The Others Getting Smaller And Smaller As They Stand Further Away; But They All Seem Very Fierce And Cruel And As If They Said, 'i'm Coming! Beware Of Me! Beware Of Me!