Who waits until the wind shall silent keep Will never find the ready hour to sow.

Next time!' In what calendar are kept the records of those next times which never come?

Stain my eyes as I may, on all sides all is black.

Motherhood is priced Of God, at price no man may dare To lessen or misunderstand.

Most men call fretting a minor fault, a foible, and not a vice. There is no vice except drunkenness which can so utterly destroy the peace, the happiness of a hoe.

O month when they who love must love and wed.

Who longest wait of all surely wins.