With Spots Of Sunny Openings, And With

Nature, At All Events, Humanly Speaking, Is Manifestly Very Fond Of Color; For She Has Made Nothing Without It. Her Skies Are Blue; Her Fields, Green; Her Waters Vary With Her Skies; Her Animals, Vegetables, Minerals, Are All Colored. She Paints A Great Any Of Them In Apparently Superfluous Hues, As If To Show The Dullest Eye How She Loves Color.

An Exquisite Invention This, Worthy Of Love's Most Honeyed Kiss,-- This Art Of Writing Billet-doux-- In Buds, And Odors, And Bright Hues! In Saying All One Feels And Thinks In Clever Daffodils And Pinks; In Puns Of Tulips; And In Phrases, Charming For Their Truth, Of Daisies.

Some Tears Belong To Us Because We Are Unfortunate; Others, Because We Are Humane; Many, Because We Are Mortal. But Most Are Caused By Our Being Unwise. It Is These Last Only That Of Necessity Produce More.

Beauty Too Often Sacrifices To Fashion. The Spirit Of Fashion Is Not The Beautiful, But The Wilful; Not The Graceful, But The Fantastic; Not The Superior In The Abstract, But The Superior In The Worst Of All Concretes,-the Vulgar.

Night's Deepest Gloom Is But A Calm; That Soothes The Weary Mind: The Labored Days Restoring Balm; The Comfort Of Mankind.