Eloquence Is The Poetry Of Prose.

Still Sweet With Blossoms Is The Year's Fresh Prime.

Eloquence Is The Poetry Of Prose.

The Air Was Fragrant With A Thousand Trodden Aromatic Herbs, With Fields Of Lavender, And With The Brightest Roses Blushing In Tufts All Over The Meadows.

And We Wept That One So Lovely Should Have A Life So Brief.

A Melancholy Sound Is In The Air, A Deep Sigh In The Distance, A Shrill Wail Around My Dwelling. 'tis The Wind Of Night.