Behind the clouds is the sun still shining.

So Nature deals with us, and takes away Our playthings one by one, and by the hand Leads us to rest.

Midnight! the outpost of advancing day! The frontier town and citadel of night!

Thus thought I, as by night I read Of the great army of the dead, The trenches cold and damp, The starved and frozen camp,-- The wounded from the battle-plain, In dreary hospitals of pain, The cheerless corridors, The cold and stony floors. Lo! in that house of misery A lady with a lamp I see Pass through the glimmering gloom And flit from room to room. And slow, as in a dream of bliss, The speechless sufferer turns to kiss Her shadow, as it falls Upon the darkening walls.

The strength of criticism lies in the weakness of the thing criticized.

Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked up a horseshoe.

Sail on, O Ship of State! Sail on, O Union, strong and great.