Softly The Evening Came /with The Sunset/.

Though The Mills Of God Grind Slowly, Yet They Grind Exceeding Small; Though With Patience He Stands Waiting, With Exactness Grinds He All.

O Thou Sculptor, Painter, Poet! Take This Lesson To Thy Heart: That Is Best Which Lieth Nearest; Shape From That Thy Work Of Art.

There Is Nothing Holier In This Life Of Ours Than The First Consciousness Of Love, The First Fluttering Of Its Silken Wings.

Know How Sublime A Thing It Is To Suffer And Be Strong.

The Day Is Dark And Cold And Dreary; It Rains, And The Wind Is Never Weary.