Let The Dead Past Bury

And As She Looked Around, She Saw How Death The Consoler, Laying His Hand Upon Many A Heart, Had Healed It Forever.

Oh The Long And Dreary Winter! Oh The Cold And Cruel Winter!

Time, Like A Preacher In The Days Of The Puritans, Turned The Hour-glass On His High Pulpit, The Church Belfry.

That Which The Fountain Sends Forth Returns Again To The Fountain.

The True Poet Is A Friendly Man. He Takes To His Arms Even Cold And Inanimate Things, And Rejoices In His Heart.