It is a comely fashion to be glad; Joy is the grace we say to God.
Man is the miracle in nature. God Is the One Miracle to man.
And bitter waxed the fray; Brother with brother spake no word When they met in the way.
People newly emerged from obscurity generally launch out into indiscriminate display.
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.
we wish for more in life rather than more of it.