Before a day was over,Home comes the rover,For mother's kiss—sweeter thisThan any other thing!

Had she come all the way for this, / To part at last without a kiss?

It doesn't get any sweeter than this. It really doesn't.

If any foes of mine are there, I pardon every one: I hope that man and womankind will do the same by me.

Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods and day by day the dead leaves fall and melt.

I have been an 'Official' all my life, without the least turn for it. I never could attain a true official manner, which is highly artificial and handles trifles with ludicrously disproportionate gravity.