Be Thy Sleep Silent As Night Is,

Ah, How Wonderful Is The Advent Of The Spring!—the Great Annual Miracle.... Which No Force Can Stay, No Violence Restrain, Like Love, That Wins Its Way And Cannot Be Withstood By Any Human Power, Because Itself Is Divine Power. If Spring Came But Once In A Century, Instead Of Once A Year, Or Burst Forth With The Sound Of An Earthquake, And Not In Silence, What Wonder And Expectation Would There Be In All Hearts To Behold The Miraculous Change!... We Are Like Children Who Are Astonished And Delighted Only By The Second-hand Of The Clock, Not By The Hour-hand.

Three Silences There Are: The First Of Speech, The Second Of Desire, The Third Of Thought.

The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls, The Twilight Darkens, The Curlew Calls; The Little Waves, With Their Soft, White Hands, Efface The Footprints In The Sands, And The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls.

Thus At The Flaming Forge Of Life Our Fortunes Must Be Wrought; Thus On Its Sounding Anvil Shaped Each Burning Deed And Thought!

A Young Critic Is Like A Boy With A Gun; He Fires At Every Living Thing He Sees. He Thinks Only Of His Own Skill, Not Of The Pain He Is Giving.