The men that women marry, And why they marry them, will always be A marvel and a mystery to the world.

How like they are to human things!

A boy's will is the wind's will, and the thought's of youth are long, long thoughhts

The heart, like the mind, has a memory. And in it are kept the most precious keepsakes.

I hear the wind among the trees Playing the celestial symphonies; I see the branches downward bent, Like keys of some great instrument.

The men that women marry, And why they marry them, will always be A marvel and a mystery to the world.

Ah, how wonderful is the advent of the Spring!—the great annual miracle.... which no force can stay, no violence restrain, like love, that wins its way and cannot be withstood by any human power, because itself is divine power. If Spring came but once in a century, instead of once a year, or burst forth with the sound of an earthquake, and not in silence, what wonder and expectation would there be in all hearts to behold the miraculous change!... We are like children who are astonished and delighted only by the second-hand of the clock, not by the hour-hand.