I Stole Her Heart Away And Put

We Never Tire Of The Friendships We Form With Books.

Go Ye, Who Rest So Placidly Upon The Sacred Bard Who Had Been Young, And When He Strung His Harp Was Old, And Had Never Seen The Righteous Forsaken, Or His Seed Begging Their Bread; Go, Teachers Of Content And Honest Pride, Into The Mine, The Mill, The Forge, The Squalid Depths Of Deepest Ignorance, And Uttermost Abyss Of Man's Neglect, And Say Can Any Hopeful Plant Spring Up In Air So Foul That It Extinguishes The Soul's Bright Torch As Fast As It Is Kindled!

Recollections Of The Past And Visions Of The Present Come To Bear Me Company; The Meanest Man To Whom I Have Ever Given Alms Appears, To Add His Mite Of Peace And Comfort To My Stock; And Whenever The Fire Within Me Shall Grow Cold, To Light My Path Upon This Earth No More, I Pray That It May Be At Such An Hour As This, And When I Love The World As Well As I Do Now.

All Is Going On As It Was Wont. The Waves Are Hoarse With Repetition Of Their Mystery; The Dust Lies Piled Upon The Shore; The Sea-birds Soar And Hover; The Winds And Clouds Go Forth Upon Their Trackless Flight; The White Arms Beckon, In The Moonlight, To The Invisible Country Far Away.

... No, The Office Is One Thing, And Private Life Is Another. When I Go Into The Office, I Leave The Castle Behind Me, And When I Come Into The Castle, I Leave The Office Behind Me.