When I behold what pleasure is Pursuit, What life, what glorious eagerness it is, Then mark how full Possession falls from this, How fairer seems the blossom than the fruit, I am perplext, and often stricken mute, Wondering which attained the higher bliss, The wing'd insect, or the chrysalis It thrust aside with unreluctant foot.Thomas Bailey Aldrich
These Winter nights against my window-pane, nature with busy pencil draws designs of ferns and blossoms and fine spray of pines, oak-leaf and acorn and fantastic vines, which she will make when summer comes again. Quaint arabesques in argent, flat and cold, like curious Chinese etchings.Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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