There Might Be Some Credit In Being

The Plain Rule Is To Do Nothing In The Dark, To Be A Party To Nothing Underhanded Or Mysterious, And Never To Put His Foot Where He Cannot See The Ground.

The Earth Covered With A Sable Pall As For The Burial Of Yesterday; The Clumps Of Dark Trees, Its Giant Plumes Of Funeral Feathers, Waving Sadly To And Fro: All Hushed, All Noiseless, And In Deep Repose, Save The Swift Clouds That Skim Across The Moon, And The Cautious Wind, As, Creeping After Them Upon The Ground, It Stops To Listen, And Goes Rustling On, And Stops Again, And Follows, Like A Savage On The Trail.

And Still I Stood Looking At The House, Thinking How Happy I Should Be If I Lived There With Her, And Knowing That I Never Was Happy With Her, But Always Miserable.

The New Year, Like An Infant Heir To The Whole World, Was Waited For, With Welcomes, Presents, And Rejoicings.

Never Imitate The Eccentricities Of Genius, But Toil After It In Its Truer Flights. They Are Not So Easy To Follow, But They Lead To Higher Regions.