Memory, Bosom-spring Of Joy.

The Book Of Job Is Pure Arab Poetry Of The Highest And Most Antique Cast.

There Is Small Chance Of Truth At The Goal, Where There Is Not Childlike Humility At The Starting-post.

A Wild Rose Roofs The Ruined Shed, And That And Summer Well Agree.

Summer Has Set In With Its Usual Severity.

The Once Red Leaf, The Last Of Its Clan, That Dances As Often As Dance It Can.