Stain My Eyes As I May, On

For April Sobs While These Are So Glad April Weeps While These Are So Gay,- Weeps Like A Tired Child Who Had, Playing With Flowers, Lost Its Way.

O Month When They Who Love Must Love And Wed.

If I Could Write A Story That Would Do For The Indian One-hundredth Part What 'uncle Tom's Cabin' Did For The Negro, I Would Be Thankful The Rest Of My Life.

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!

O Proudly Name Their Names Who Bravely Sail| To Seek Brave Lost In Arctic Snows And Seas!