The air of summer was sweeter than wine.

Learn to labour and to wait.

Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.

Love makes its record in deeper colors as we grow out of childhood into manhood.

Still stands the forest primeval; but far away from its shadow, Side by side, in their nameless graves, the lovers are sleeping.Under the humble walls of the little catholic churchyard,In the heart of the city, they lie, unknown and unnoticed;Daily the tides of life go ebbing and flowing beside them,Thousands of throbbing hearts, where theirs are at rest and forever,Thousands of aching brains, where theirs no longer are busy,Thousands of toiling hands, where theirs have ceased from their labors,Thousands of weary feet, where theirs have completed their journey!

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

As turning the logs will make a dull fire burn, so change of studies a dull brain.