Tears Are Summer Showers To The Soul.

Imagination In Poetry, As Distinguished From Mere Fancy Is The Transfiguring Of The Real Or Actual To The Ideal.

Doth Nature Draw Me, 'tis Because, Unto My Seeming, There Doth Lurk A Lawlessness About Her Laws, More Mood Than Purpose In Her Work.

Is Life Worth Living? Yes, So Long As There Is Wrong To Right. So Long As Faith With Freedom Reigns And Loyal Hope Survives, And Gracious Charity Remains To Leaven Lowly Lives; While There Is Only One Untrodden Tract For Intellect Or Will, And Men Are Free To Think And Act, Life Is Worth Living Still.

We Are All Alike, And We Love To Keep Passion Aglow At Our Feet, Like One That Sitteth In Shade And Complacently Smiles At The Heat.

Falling Stars Are High Examples Sent To Warn, Not Lure. Gross Fancy Says They Are Substantial Meteors; But That Is Not So. They Are The Merest Phantasies Of Night, When She's Asleep, And, Dimly Visited By Past Effects, She Dreams Of Lucifer Hurled Out Of Heaven.