Earth's Noblest Thing,-a Woman Perfected.

Beauty Hath No True Glass, Except It Be In The Sweet Privacy Of Loving Eyes.

Virtue Treads Paths That End Not In The Grave.

God'll Send The Bill To You.

Tiny Salmoneus Of The Air His Mimic Bolts The Firefly Threw.

Now On The Hills I Hear The Thunder Mutter... Nearer And Nearer Rolls The Thunder-clap, - You Can Hear The Quick Heart Of The Tempest Beat.... Look! Look! That Livid Flash! And Instantly Follows The Rattling Thunder, As If Some Cloud-crag, Split Asunder, Fell, Splintering With A Ruinous Crash, On The Earth, Which Crouches In Silence Under; And Now A Solid Gray Wall Of Rain Shuts Off The Landscape, Mile By Mile.