Now the noisy winds are still; April's coming up the hill! All the spring is in her train, Led by shining ranks of rain; Pit, pat, patter, clatter, Sudden sun and clatter patter!... All things ready with a will, April's coming up the hill!

Grandma told me all about it, Told me so I couldn't doubt it, How she danced, my grandma danced; long ago.

I'm as true a Protestant, in sooth, as any fine lady that walks into church, but it's not wrong to turn sometimes to the good St. Nicholas.

She waits for me, my lady Earth, Smiles and waits and sighs; I'll say her nay, and hide away, Then take her by surprise.

Life is a mystery as deep as ever death can be.

[On the Netherlands:] There is not a richer or more carefully tilled garden spot in the whole world than this leaky, springy little country.

Ten years dropped from a man's life are no small loss; ten years of manhood, of household happiness and care; ten years of honest labor, of conscious enjoyment of sunshine and outdoor beauty; ten years of grateful life--one day looking forward to all this; the next, waking to find them passed, and a blank.