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

O little feet! that such long years Must wander on through hopes and fears, Must ache and bleed beneath your load; I, nearer to the wayside inn Where toil shall cease and rest begin, Am weary, thinking of your road!

The poor too often turn away unheard, From hearts that shut against them with a sound That will be heard in heaven.

That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain.

Time, like a preacher in the days of the Puritans, turned the hour-glass on his high pulpit, the church belfry.

Look, then, into thine heart, and write! Yes, into Life's deep stream! All forms of sorrow and delight, All solemn Voices of the Night, That can soothe thee, or affright, - Be these henceforth thy theme. (excerpt from "Voices of the Night")

How beautiful is youth! how bright it gleams with its illusions, aspirations, dreams! Book of Beginnings, Story without End, Each maid a heroine, and each man a friend!