Next Time!' In What Calendar Are Kept

But All Lost Things Are In The Angels' Keeping, Love; No Past Is Dead For Us, But Only Sleeping, Love; The Years Of Heaven With All Earth's Little Pain Make Good Together There We Can Begin Again, In Babyhood.

The New Is Older Than The Old; And Newest Friend Is Oldest Friend In This: That, Waiting Him, We Longest Grieved To Miss One Thing We Sought.

Gazing Around, Looking Up At The Lofty Pinnacles Above, Which Seemed To Pierce The Sky, Looking Down Upon The World,--it Seemed The Whole World, So Limitless It Stretched Away At Her Feet,--feeling That Infinite Unspeakable Sense Of Nearness To Heaven, Remoteness From Earth Which Comes Only On Mountain Heights, She Drew In A Long Breath Of Delight, And Cried: "at Last! At Last, Alessandro! Here We Are Safe! This Is Freedom! This Is Joy!

I Shall Be Found With 'indians' Engraved On My Brain When I Am Dead. A Fire Has Been Kindled Within Me, Which Will Never Go Out.

Great Loves, To The Last, Have Pulses Red; All Great Loves That Have Ever Died Dropped Dead.