... in grove, When fragrance breathes from every flower, And all peace and love. Oh music’s blithe—in festive tower, With song joy or war; But music the twilight hour Is sweeter, sweeter far. Fisher's Juvenile Scrap-Book. On Listening Evil Retorts.—The longer ...

... collect the wool from the thorns, from which, thorny hedge, they must prepare their nest, what should poet more with the pen than offer them, not pitiful German flattery, but morning dreams and gentler sighs than they can extract from life. If I 'P* 1 ...