Light Is, Perhaps, The Most

Fail Not To Call To Mind, In The Course Of The Twenty-fifth Of This Month, That The Divinest Heart That Ever Walked The Earth Was Born On That Day; And Then Smile And Enjoy Yourselves For The Rest Of It; For Mirth Is Also Of Heaven's Making.

Traveling In The Company Of Those We Love Is Home In Motion.

Beauty Too Often Sacrifices To Fashion.

We Lose In Depth Of Expression When We Go To Inferior Animals For Comparisons With Human Beauty. Homer Calls Juno Ox-eyed; And The Epithet Suits Well With The Eyes Of That Goddess, Because She May Be Supposed, With All Her Beauty, To Want A Certain Humanity. Her Large Eyes Look At You With A Royal Indifference.

The Golden Line Is Drawn Between Winter And Summer. Behind All Is Blackness And Darkness And Dissolution. Before Is Hope, And Soft Airs, And The Flowers, And The Sweet Season Of Hay; And People Will Cross The Fields, Reading Or Walking With One Another; And Instead Of The Rain That Soaks Death Into The Heart Of Green Things, Will Be The Rain Which They Drink With Delight; And There Will Be Sleep On The Grass At Midday, And Early Rising In The Morning, And Long Moonlight Evenings.