Say not 'Good-night' but in some brighter clime, bid me 'Good-morning.'
So fades a summer cloud away; So sinks the gale when storms are o'er; So gently shuts the eye of day; So dies a wave along the shore.
It is to hope, though hope were lost.
Child of mortality, whence comest thou? Why is thy countenance sad, and why are thine eyes red with weeping?
The first pale blossom of the unripened year.
You speak of beginning the education of your son. The moment he was able to form an idea his education was already begun. . . .