Welcome, wild harbinger of spring!
To this small nook of earth;
Feeling and fancy fondly cling,
Round thoughts which owe their birth,
To thee, and to the humble spot,
Where chance has fixed thy lowly lot.
Patience wins the race.
That thorny path, those stormy skies, have drawn our spirits nearer; and rendered us, by sorrow's ties, each to the other dearer.
Obstinacy and vehemency in opinion are the surest proofs of stupidity.
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