Some Folk Want Their Luck

That Man's Silence Is Wonderful To Listen To.

A Blaze Of Love And Extinction, Was Better Than A Lantern Glimmer Of The Same Which Should Last Long Years.

The Value Of Old Age Depends Upon The Person Who Reaches It. To Some Men Of Early Performance It Is Useless. To Others, Who Are Late To Develop, It Just Enables Them To Finish The Job.

Once Let A Maiden Admit The Possibility Of Her Being Stricken With Love For Some One At A Certain Hour And Place, And The Thing Is As Good As Done.

Christmas Eve, And Twelve Of The Clock. "now They Are All On Their Knees," An Elder Said As We Sat In A Flock By The Embers In Hearth-side Ease. We Pictured The Meek Mild Creatures Where They Dwelt In Their Strawy Pen, Nor Did It Occur To One Of Us There To Doubt They Were Kneeling Then. So Fair A Fancy Few Would Weave In These Years! Yet, I Feel If Someone Said On Christmas Eve, "come; See The Oxen Kneel, In The Lonely Barton By Yonder Coomb Our Childhood Used To Know," I Should Go With Him In The Gloom, Hoping It Might Be So.