Her face betokened all things dear and good, The light of somewhat yet to come was there Asleep, and waiting for the opening day, When childish thoughts, like flowers would drift away.

Yet there are some resting-places, / Life's untroubled interludes; / Times when neither past nor future / On the soul's deep calm intrudes.

Man is the miracle in nature. God Is the One Miracle to man.

Her face betokened all things dear and good, The light of somewhat yet to come was there Asleep, and waiting for the opening day, When childish thoughts, like flowers would drift away.

Children bring their own love with them when they come.

And bitter waxed the fray; Brother with brother spake no word When they met in the way.

And old affront will stir the heart Through years of rankling pain.