A good wife is heaven's last, best gift to man, - his gem of many virtues, his casket of jewels; read more

A good wife is heaven's last, best gift to man, - his gem of many virtues, his casket of jewels; her voice is sweet music, her smiles his brightest day, her kiss the guardian of his innocence, her arms the pale of his safety...

Guard with jealous attention the public liberty. Suspect everyone who approaches that jewel. Unfortunately, nothing will preserve it but downright read more

Guard with jealous attention the public liberty. Suspect everyone who approaches that jewel. Unfortunately, nothing will preserve it but downright force: Whenever you give up that force, you are inevitably ruined.

The sweet calm sunshine of October, now
Warms the low spot; upon its grassy mould
The purple read more

The sweet calm sunshine of October, now
Warms the low spot; upon its grassy mould
The purple oak-leaf falls; the birchen bough
Drops its bright spoil like arrow-heads of gold.

Is it the shrewd October wind
Brings the tears into her eyes?
Does it blow so strong read more

Is it the shrewd October wind
Brings the tears into her eyes?
Does it blow so strong that she must fetch
Her breath in sudden sighs?

And close at hand, the basket stood
With nuts from brown October's wood.

And close at hand, the basket stood
With nuts from brown October's wood.

These gems have life in them: their colors speak,
Say what words fail of.

These gems have life in them: their colors speak,
Say what words fail of.

The Lord says, "As surely as I live, your children will be like jewels. You will be as proud of read more

The Lord says, "As surely as I live, your children will be like jewels. You will be as proud of them as a bride is of her jewels."

And I had lent my watch last night to one
That dines to-day at the sheriff's.

And I had lent my watch last night to one
That dines to-day at the sheriff's.

October turned by maple's leaves to gold;
The most are gone now; here and there one lingers;
read more

October turned by maple's leaves to gold;
The most are gone now; here and there one lingers;
Soon these will slip from the twig's weak hold,
Like coins between a dying miser's fingers.