When friends are at your hearthside met, Sweet courtesy has done its most If you have made each guest forget That he himself is not the host.

No bird has ever uttered note That was not in some first bird's throat; Since Eden's freshness and man's fall No rose has been original.

It is only your habitual late riser who takes in the full flavor of Nature at those rare intervals when he gets up to go afishing. He brings virginal emotions and unsatiated eyes to the sparkling freshness of earth and stream and sky.

Gracious to all, to none subservient, Without offense he spoke the word he meant

The ocean moans over dead men's bones.

What is lovely never dies, but passes into other loveliness, Star-dust, or sea-foam, flower or winged air.

Sorrow itself is not so hard to bear As the thought of sorrow coming. Airy ghosts, That work no harm, do terrify us more Than men in steel with bloody purposes. Death is not dreadful; 'tis the dread of death— We die whene'er we think of it!