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

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

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

All green and fair the summer lies, Just budded from the bud of spring, With tender blue of wistful skies, And winds that softly sing.

Earth's saddest day and gladdest day were just three days apart!

Softly drops the crimson sun: Softly down from overhead, Drop the bell-notes, one by one, Melting in the melting red.

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.