As we meet and touch, each day, The many travelers on our way, Let every such brief contact be A glorious, helpful minister.

Yesterday's errors let yesterday cover.

Ah, the pretty whisperers! It was very well When the leaves were thick and green, awhile ago-- Leaves are secret-keepers; but since the last leaf fell There is nothing hidden from the eyes below.

...this pause of rest, This morning hush before the sun.

The sobbing wind is fierce and strong; its cry is like a human wail.

To-morrow I will begin, thought Katy, as she dropped asleep that night. How often we all do so! And what a pity it is that when morning comes and to-morrow is to-day, we so frequently wake up feeling quite differently; careless or impatient, and not a bit inclined to do the fine things we planned overnight.

True love is not selfish. In time it accustoms itself to anything which secures happiness for its object.