. Book of the Royal blue . r-but 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 Boft —as shy—as a the dreamer dreamed till the guest was gone — And the guest was 1. A knock at the door again The dreamer dreamed awayUnheeding deaf to the gentle call i »f 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 slo
. Book of the Royal blue . r-but 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 Boft —as shy—as a the dreamer dreamed till the guest was gone — And the guest was 1. A knock at the door again The dreamer dreamed awayUnheeding deaf to the gentle call i »f 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 the guest stole on. with a humbled sigh 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 eruest was <STUB ENDSOF THOUGHT By ARTHUR. G. LEW/J 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 spasmodicsensations of remorse. I once found a woman weeping overthe jewels for which 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 others
Size: 1740px × 1435px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookauthorbaltimoreandohiorailr, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890
