Who Longest Wait Of All Surely Wins.

The Voice Of One Who Goes Before, To Makethe Paths Of June More Beautiful, Is Thinesweet May!

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.

Still Lie The Sheltering Snows, Undimmed And White; And Reigns The Winter's Pregnant Silence Still; No Sign Of Spring, Save That The Catkins Fill, And Willow Stems Grow Daily Red And Bright. These Are Days When Ancients Held A Rite Of Expiation For The Old Year's Ill, And Prayer To Purify The New Year's Will.

On The King's Gate The Moss Grew Gray;the King Came Not. They Called Him Deadand Made His Eldest Son One Dayslave In His Father's Stead.

When Time Is Spent, Eternity Begins.