Grant Me, O Lord, A Sunny Mind-thy

Speech Is One Symptom Of Affection; And Silence One; The Perfect Communication Is Heard Of None.

When I State Myself, As The Representative Of The Verse, It Does Not Mean Me, But A Supposed Person.

Hope . . . Never Stops At All.

Our Little Kinsmen After Rain In Plenty May Be Seen, A Pink And Pulpy Multitude The Tepid Ground Upon; A Needless Life If Seemed To Me Until A Little Bird As To A Hospitality Advanced And Breakfasted.

I'll Tell You How The Sun Rose, A Ribbon At A Time. The Steeples Swam In Amethyst, The News Like Squirrels Ran. The Hills Untied Their Bonnets, The Bobolinks Begun. Then I Said Softly To Myself, "that Must Have Been The Sun!