These are the days when birds come back, a very few, a Bird or two, to take a backward look.

Those who have not found the heaven below, will fail of it above.

The older I grow the more do I love spring and spring flowers. Is it so with you?

Is Bliss then, such Abyss, I must not put my foot amiss For fear I spoil my shoe? I'd rather suit my foot Than save my Boot -- For yet to buy another Pair is possible, At any store -- But Bliss, is sold just once. The Patent lost None buy it any more --

Twin loaves of bread have just been born into the world under my auspices. Fine children, the image of their mother. And here, my dear friend, is the glory.

To lose what we have never owned might seem an eccentric bereavement, but Presumption has its own affliction as well as claim.

I would like more sisters, that the taking out of one, might not leave such stillness.