O Bees, Sweet Bees!" I

If I Could Write A Story That Would Do For The Indian One-hundredth Part What 'uncle Tom's Cabin' Did For The Negro, I Would Be Thankful The Rest Of My Life.

Great Loves, To The Last, Have Pulses Red; All Great Loves That Have Ever Died Dropped Dead.

The Voice Of One Who Goes Before, To Makethe Paths Of June More Beautiful, Is Thinesweet May!

For April Sobs While These Are So Glad April Weeps While These Are So Gay,- Weeps Like A Tired Child Who Had, Playing With Flowers, Lost Its Way.

That Indescribable Expression Peculiar To People Who Hope They Have Not Been Asleep, But Know They Have.