The Once Red Leaf, The Last Of

Joy Rises In Me, Like A Summer's Morn.

O Lady! We Receive But What We Give And In Our Life Alone Does Nature Live.

Christianity Is Within A Man, Even As He Is Gifted With Reason; It Is Associated With Your Mother's Chair, And With The First Remembered, Tones Of Her Blessed Voice.

Fear Gives Sudden Instincts Of Skill.

And What If All Of Animated Nature Be But Organic Harps Diversely Framed, That Tremble Into Thought, As O'er Them Sweeps, Plastic And Vast, One Intellectual Breeze, At Once The Soul Of Each, And God Of All?