That Which The Fountain Sends

The Sunshine Fails, The Shadows Grow More Dreary, And I Am Near To Fall, Infirm And Weary.

Standing, With Reluctant Feet, Where The Brook And River Meet, Womanhood And Childhood Fleet!

Books Are Sepulchres Of Thought.

I Am The Angel Of The Sun Whose Flaming Wheels Began To Run When God's Almighty Breath Said To The Darkness And The Night, Let There Be Light! And There Was Light.

A Coquette Is A Young Lady Of More Beauty Than Sense, More Accomplishments Than Learning, More Charms Not Person Than Graces Of Mind, More Admirers Than Friends, Mole Fools Than Wise Men For Attendants.