. Book of the Royal blue . t he Was dreaming a dream of fame;And the one who knocked drew softly back, And never again he knock at the door—as soft— As soft—as shy—as a the dreamer dreamed till the guest was gone— And the guest was Love. A knock at the door —again The dreamer dreamed awayUnheeding—deaf to the gentle call Of the one who came that knock at the door—no more The guest to that door the dreamer dreamed of the one who called— For the guest was Fame A knock at the door—but still He gave it no reply;And the waiting guest gave a cheery hail Ere he slowly w
. Book of the Royal blue . t he Was dreaming a dream of fame;And the one who knocked drew softly back, And never again he knock at the door—as soft— As soft—as shy—as a the dreamer dreamed till the guest was gone— And the guest was Love. A knock at the door —again The dreamer dreamed awayUnheeding—deaf to the gentle call Of the one who came that knock at the door—no more The guest to that door the dreamer dreamed of the one who called— For the guest was Fame A knock at the door—but still He gave it no reply;And the waiting guest gave a cheery hail Ere he slowly wandered knock at the door—in dreams The dreamer fain would grope,Till the guest stole on, with a humbled sigh— And the guest was Hope. A knock at the door—twas loud, With might in every stroke;And the dreamer stopped in his dreaming thought, And suddenly knock at the door—he ran With the swiftness of a breath;And the door swung wide, and the guest came in— And the guest was <STUB ENDSOF THOUGHT By ARTHUR. WHILE slumming after features inhuman nature foreign to theethics of so-called polite society,I frequently bite off more than I canintelligently masticate. Living down a past is generally amore difficult task than the building upof a future. When dogs bark, as a rule, none butdogs howl in answer. There is no nature so degenerate butwhat suffers occasionally from spasmodic-sensations of remorse. I once found a woman weeping overthe jewels for wThich she had sold herlove, and a child crying over a toy it hadbroken. Honesty is only thoroughly testedwhen we are constrained from takingsomething we really desire, which is be-yond the possibility of discovery orpunishment. Some may think they understandwomen as a class, but none can compre-hend mothers in their almost divine sphere. All the world loves a lover, exceptwhen there are two in the same pasture. Self-conceit can only, in equity, bemeasured by ourselves; no other
Size: 1727px × 1447px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookauthorbaltimoreandohiorailr, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890
