In Youth All Doors Open Outward; In

No Action, Whether Foul Or Fair, Is Ever Done, But It Leaves Somewhere A Record, Written By Fingers Ghostly, As A Blessing Or A Curse, And Mostly In The Greater Weakness Or Greater Strength Of The Acts Which Follow It.

Our Ingress Into The World Was Naked And Bare; Our Progress Through The World Is Trouble And Care.

Sweet April! Many A Thought Is Wedded Unto Thee, As Hearts Are Wed; Nor Shall They Fail, Till, To Its Autumn Brought, Life's Golden Fruit Is Shed.

The Swallow Is Come! The Swallow Is Come! O, Fair Are The Seasons, And Light Are The Days That She Brings, With Her Dusky Wings, And Her Bosom Snowy White!

They, The Holy Ones And Weakly, Who The Cross Of Suffering Bore, Folded Their Pale Hands So Meekly, Spake With Us On Earth No More!