But whenever she thanks the givers for favors great and small, she thinks of the good little sister who gave her more than they all.

But alas for the dreams that round us play! / For the plans of mortal making! / And alas for the false and fickle day / That looked so fair at waking!

Give plenty of what is given to you, And listen to pity's call. Don't think the little you give is great, And the much you get is small.

Never is true love blind, but rather brings an added light.

One sweetly solemn thought, comes to me o'er and o'er; I am nearer home today, than I ever have been before.

I think true love is never blind, / But rather brings an added light; / An inner vision quick to find / The beauties hid from common sight.

O men, grown sick with toil and care, Leave for awhile the crowded mart; O women, sinking with despair, Weary of limb and faint of heart, Forget your years to-day and come As children back to childhood's house.