Wondrous Strong Are The Spells

The Young May Die, But The Old Must!

Look, Then, Into Thine Heart, And Write!

And When The Echoes Had Ceased, Like A Sense Of Pain Was The Silence.

Very Hot And Still The Air Was, Very Smooth The Gliding River, Motionless The Sleeping Shadows.

More Hearts Are Breaking In This World Of Ours Than One Would Say. In Distant Villages And Solitudes Remote, Where Winds Have Wafted The Barbed Seeds Of Love, Or Birds Of Passage Scattered Them In Their Flight, Do They Take Root, And Grow In Silence, And In Silence Perish.