• The Saddest Fate

        TO touch a broken lute,
          To strike a jangled string,
        To strive with tones forever mute
          The dear old tunes to sing—
    What sadder fate could any heart befall?
    Alas! dear child, never to sing at all.

        To sigh for pleasures flown,
          To weep for withered flowers,
        To count the blessings we have known,...

    Anonymous

  • The saddest noise, the sweetest noise,

    The saddest noise, the sweetest noise,

    The maddest noise that grows, —

    The birds, they make it in the spring,

    At night's delicious close.


    Between the March and April line —

    That magical frontier

    Beyond which summer hesitates,

    Almost too heavenly near.


    It makes us think...