Knowing that Nature never did betray the heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege, through all the years of this our life, to lead from joy to joy.

The gods approve The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul.

The sunshine is a glorious birth; But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath passed away a glory from the earth.

Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.

Mark the babe not long accustomed to this breathing world; One that hath barely learned to shape a smile, though yet irrational of soul, to grasp with tiny finger - to let fall a tear; And, as the heavy cloud of sleep dissolves, To stretch his limbs, becoming, as might seem. The outward functions of intelligent man.

Sad fancies do we then affect, In luxury of disrespect To our own prodigal excess Of too familiar happiness.

Father! - to God himself we cannot give a holier name.