The lovely flowers embarrass me. They make me regret I am not a bee.
My life closed twice before its close
God's little Blond Blessing we have long deemed you, and hope his so-called Will will not compel him to revoke you.
To multiply the harbors does not reduce the sea.
The older I grow the more do I love spring and spring flowers. Is it so with you?
A precious, mouldering pleasure 't is, to meet an antique book, In just the dress his century wore; A privilege I think.