The Roaring Of The Wind Is My

The Imagination Of A Boy Is Healthy, And The Mature Imagination Of A Man Is Healthy; But There Is A Space Of Life Between, In Which The Soul Is In A Ferment, The Character Undecided, The Way Of Life Uncertain, The Ambition Thick-sighted: Thence Proceeds Mawkishness.

Every Fresh Experience Points Out Some Form Of Error Which We Shall Afterwards Carefully Avoid.

Faded The Flower And All Its Budded Charms,faded The Sight Of Beauty From My Eyes,faded The Shape Of Beauty From My Arms,faded The Voice, Warmth, Whiteness, Paradise!vanishd Unseasonably

In The Long Vista Of The Years To Roll,\ Let Me Not See My Country's Honor Fade;\ Oh! Let Me See Our Land Retain Its Soul!\ Her Pride In Freedom, And Not Freedom's Shade.

The Roaring Of The Wind Is My Wife And The Stars Through The Window Pane Are My Children. The Mighty Abstract Idea I Have Of Beauty In All Things Stifles The More Divided And Minute Domestic Happiness.