See yonder little cloud, that, borne aloft So tenderly by the wind, floats fast away Over the snowy peaks!

O beautiful, awful summer day, what hast thou given, what taken away?

So disasters come not singly; But as if they watched and waited, Scanning one another's motions, When the first descends, the others Follow, follow, gathering flock-wiseRound their victim, sick and wounded, First a shadow, then a sorrow, Till the air is dark with anguish.

Nothing with God can be accidental.

Who ne'er his bread in sorrow ate, Who ne'er the mournful midnight hours Weeping upon his bed has sate, He knows you not, ye Heavenly Powers.

For it is the fate of a woman Long to be patient and silent, to wait like a ghost that is speechless, Till some questioning voice dissolves the spell of its silence. Hence is the inner life of so many suffering women Sunless and silent and deep, like subterranean rivers Runnng through caverns of darkness.

Whoever benefits his enemy with straightforward intention that man's enemies will soon fold their hands in devotion.