The Hushed Winds Their Sabbath Keep.

The Gay Will Laugh When Thou Art Gone, The Solemn Brood Of Care Plod On, And Each One As Before Will Chase His Favourite Phantom; Yet All These Shall Leave Their Mirth And Their Employments, And Shall Come, And Make Their Bed With Thee.

The Birch-bark Canoe Of The Savage Seems To Me One Of The Most Beautiful And Perfect Things Of The Kind Constructed By Human Art.

Music Is Not Merely A Study, It Is An Entertainment; Wherever There Is Music There Is A Throng Of Listeners.

Autumn, The Year's Last, Loveliest Smile.

I Shall Seethe Hour Of Death Draw Near To Me,hope, Blossoming Within My Heart. . . .