Spring Drew On... And A Greenness Grew

I Am Not An Angel," I Asserted; "and I Will Not Be One Till I Die: I Will Be Myself.

Her Coming Was My Hope Each Day, Her Parting Was My Pain; The Chance That Did Her Steps Delay Was Ice In Every Vein.

As Much Good-will May Be Conveyed In One Hearty Word As In Many.

But I Tell You - And Mark My Words - You Will Come Some Day To A Craggy Pass In The Channel, Where The Whole Of Life's Stream Will Be Broken Up Into Whirl And Tumult, Foam And Noise: Either You Will Be Dashed To Atoms On Crag Points, Or Lifted Up And Borne On By Some Master-wave Into A Calmer Current.

You Ask Rather Too Many Questions. I Have Given You Answers Enough For The Present: Now I Want To Read.