In the thickets and the meadows Piped the bluebird, the Owaissa. On the summit of the lodges Sang the robin, the Opechee.

Whither away, Bluebird, Whither away? The blast is chill, yet in the upper sky Thou still canst find the color of thy wing, The hue of May. Warbler, why speed, thy southern flight? ah, why, Thou, too, whose song first told us of the Spring? Whither away?

"So the Bluebirds have contracted, have they, for a house? And a next is under way for little Mr. Wren?" "Hush, dear, hush! Be quiet, dear! quiet as a mouse. These are weighty secrets, and we must whisper them."

Whoever benefits his enemy with straightforward intention that man's enemies will soon fold their hands in devotion.

I have an affection for a great city. I feel safe in the neighborhood of man, and enjoy the sweet security of the streets.

The dawn is not distant, nor is the night starless; love is eternal.