If You Become A Nun, Dear, The

Those Who Have Lost An Infant Are Never, As It Were, Without An Infant Child. Their Other Children Grow Up To Manhood And Womanhood, And Suffer All The Changes Of Mortality; But This One Alone Is Rendered An Immortal Child; For Death Has Arrested It With His Kindly Harshness, And Blessed It Into An Eternal Image Of Youth And Innocence.

Fail Not To Call To Mind, In The Course Of The Twenty-fifth Of This Month, That The Divinest Heart That Ever Walked The Earth Was Born On That Day; And Then Smile And Enjoy Yourselves For The Rest Of It; For Mirth Is Also Of Heaven's Making.

The Person Who Can Be Only Serious Or Only Cheerful, Is But Half A Man.

Green Little Vaulter, In The Sunny Grass, Catching Your Heart Up At The Feel Of June, Sole Noise That's Heard Amidst The Lazy Noon, When Ev'n The Bees Lag At The Summoning Brass.

Colors Are The Smiles Of Nature. When They Are Extremely Smiling, And Break Forth Into Other Beauty Besides, They Are Her Laughs.