To A Young Heart Everything

Dead, Your Majesty. Dead, My Lords And Gentlemen. Dead, Right Reverends And Wrong Reverends Of Every Order. Dead, Men And Women, Born With Heavenly Compassion In Your Hearts. And Dying Thus Around Us Every Day.

There Was A Frosty Rime Upon The Trees, Which, In The Faint Light Of The Clouded Moon, Hung Upon The Smaller Branches Like Dead Garlands. Withered Leaves Crackled And Snapped Beneath His Feet, As He Crept Softly On Towards The House. The Desolation Of A Winter Night Sat Brooding On The Earth, And In The Sky. But, The Red Light Came Cheerily Towards Him From The Windows; Figures Passed And Repassed There; And The Hum And Murmur Of Voices Greeted His Ear Sweetly.

"then What Can You Want To Do Now?" Said The Old Lady,gaining Courage. "i Wants To Make Your Flesh Creep," Replied The Boy.

... When The Locked Door Opens, And There Comes In A Young Woman, Deadly Pale, And With Long Fair Hair, Who Glides To The Fire, And Sits Down In The Chair We Have Left There, Wringing Her Hands.

She Had Gained A Reputation For Beauty, And (which Is Often Another Thing) Was Beautiful.