I saw, that although
a flower may have lost its hold upon earthly moisture, it may still
bloom as sweetly, fed by the dews of heaven."
The door closed, and he was gone. But as Prue put her arm in mine, and
we went up stairs together, she whispered in my ear:
"How glad I am that you don't wear spectacles."
A CRUISE IN THE FLYING DUTCHMAN.
"When I sailed: when I sailed."
_Ballad of Robert Kidd._
With the opening of spring my heart opens. My fancy expands with the
flowers, and, as I walk down town in the May morning, toward the dingy
counting-room, and the old routine, you would hardly believe that I
would not change my feelings for those of the French Barber-Poet
Jasmin, who goes, merrily singing, to his shaving and hair cutting.
The first warm day puts the whole winter to flight. It stands in front
of the summer like a young warrior before his host, and,
single-handed, defies and destroys its remorseless enemy.
I throw up the chamber-window, to breathe the earliest breath of
summer.
"The brave young David has hit old Goliath square in the forehead this
morning," I say to Prue, as I lean out, and bathe in the soft
sunshine.
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