Winds And Waters Keepa Hush

Now Autumn's Fire Burns Slowly Along The Woods And Day By Day The Dead Leaves Fall And Melt.

Yet Dearer Still That Irish Hill Than All The World Beside; It's Home, Sweet Home, Where'er I Roam, Through Lands And Waterswide.

Before A Day Was Over, Home Comes The Rover, For Mother's Kiss - Sweeter This Than Any Other Thing!

A Man Who Keeps A Diary Pays, Due Toll To Many Tedious Days; But Life Becomes Eventful—then, His Busy Hand Forgets The Pen. Most Books, Indeed, Are Records Less Of Fulness Than Of Emptiness.

Four Ducks On A Pond, / A Grass-bank Beyond, / A Blue Sky Of Spring, / White Clouds On The Wing: / What A Little Thing / To Remember For Years - / To Remember With Tears!.