From labor there shall come forth rest.

The moon is hidden behind a cloud... On the leaves is a sound of falling rain... No other sounds than these I hear; The hour of midnight must be near... So many ghosts, and forms of fright, Have started from their graves to-night, They have driven sleep from mine eyes away: I will go down to the chapel and pray.

Like a French poem is life; being only perfect in structure when with the masculine rhymes mingled the feminine are.

I heard the bells on Christmas Day Their old, familiar carols play, And wild and sweet The words repeat Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

If we could read the secret history of our enemies.

Very hot and still the air was, Very smooth the gliding river, Motionless the sleeping shadows.

Perseverance is a great element of success. If you only knock long enough and loud enough at the gate, you are sure to wake up somebody.