The Country Is Lyric, The Town Dramatic.

After A Day Of Cloud And Wind And Rain Sometimes The Setting Sun Breaks Out Again, And Touching All The Darksome Woods With Light, Smiles On The Fields Until They Laugh And Sing, Then Like A Ruby From The Horizon's Ring, Drops Down Into The Night.

No Man Is So Poor As To Have Nothing Worth Giving.

All Sense Of Hearing And Of Sight Enfold In The Serene Delight And Quietude Of Sleep.

Saint Augustine! Well Hast Thou Said, That Of Our Vices We Can Frame A Ladder, If We Will But Tread Beneath Our Feet Each Deed Of Shame.

Oh The Long And Dreary Winter! Oh The Cold And Cruel Winter!