In A Utilitarian Age, Of All Other

The Water Of The Fountain Ran, The Swift River Ran, The Day Ran Into Evening, So Much Life In The City Ran Into Death According To Rule, Time And Tide Waited For No Man, The Rats Were Sleeping Close Together In Their Dark Holes Again, The Fancy Ball Was Lighted Up At Supper, All Things Ran Their Course.

It Was A Very Aged, Ghostly Place; The Church Had Been Built Many Hundreds Of Years Ago, And Had Once Had A Convent Or Monastery Attached; For Arches In Ruins, Remains Of Oriel Windows, And Fragments Of Blackened Walls, Were Yet Standing-, While Other Portions Of The Old Building, Which Had Crumbled Away And Fallen Down, Were Mingled With The Churchyard Earth And Overgrown With Grass, As If They Too Claimed A Burying-place And Sought To Mix Their Ashes With The Dust Of Men.

The Dreams Of Childhood - It's Airy Fables, Its Graceful, Beautiful, Humane, Impossible Adornments Of The World Beyond; So Good To Be Believed In Once, So Good To Be Remembered When Outgrown.

Take The Pencil And Write Under My Name, 'i Forgive Her.

The Clouds Were Flying Fast, The Wind Was Coming Up In Gusts, Banging Some Neighboring Shutters That Had Broken Loose, Twirling The Rusty Chimney-cowls And Weathercocks, And Rushing Round And Round A Confined Adjacent Churchyard As If It Had A Mind To Blow The Dead Citizens Out Of Their Graves. The Low Thunder, Muttering In All Quarters Of The Sky At Once, Seemed To Threaten Vengeance For This Attempted Desecration, And To Mutter, "let Them Rest! Let Them Rest!