What My Tongue Dares Not

What Should We Speak Of When We Are Old As You? When We Shall Hear The Rain And Wind Beat Dark December? How, In This Our Pinching Cave, Shall We Discourse The Freezing Hours Away?

One Touch Of Nature Makes The Whole World Kin.

Pray You Now, Forget And Forgive.

Men Shut Their Doors Against A Setting Sun.

A Violet In The Youth Of Primy Nature, Forward, Not Permanent--sweet, Not Lasting; The Perfume And Suppliance Of A Minute; No More.