Look on this beautiful world, and read the truth in her fair page.

Music is not merely a study, it is an entertainment; wherever there is music there is a throng of listeners.

The February sunshine steeps your boughs and tints the buds and swells the leaves within.

I shall seeThe hour of death draw near to me,Hope, blossoming within my heart. . . .

A stable, changeless state, 'twere cause indeed to weep.

Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson.

Follow thou thy choice.