I FOUND A few old letters of mine carefully hidden in her box- a few small toys for her memory to play with. With a timorous heart she tried to steal these trifles from time's turbulent stream, and said, 'These are mine only!' Ah, there is no one now to claim them, who can pay their price with loving care, yet here they are still. Surely there is love in this world to save her from utter loss, even like this love of hers that saved these letters with such fond care.
IF THOU speakest not I will fill my heart with thy silence and endure it. I will keep still and wait like the night with starry vigil and its head bent low with patience. The morning will surely come, the darkness will vanish, and thy voice pour down in golden streams breaking through the sky. Then thy words will take wing in songs from every one of my birds' nests, and thy melodies will break forth in flowers in all my forest groves.
