It visits the silent City of the Dead and gently scatters the leaves over the new-made grave of a young child, sighing softly the while, the voice now rising, now falling, sobbing and moaning, and at last dies away in a melancholy sound, like the strings of an Aeolian harp touched by unseen hands.
"Hark to the music of the wind!"
Human nature approaches the Divine in moments of great sacrifice, forgiveness and self-forgetfulness.
PASSING THOUGHTS
"It seems the fate of woman to wait in silence while men act," 'Men must work and woman must weep.'
How delightful it must be to understand one's own nature thoroughly, to know that no whirlwind will ever sweep us off the beaten track, no stormy passions stir the calm placidity of our life. But is that life? No, give me the glories of expectation, the wildest exhaltation; the heart beating, the brain throbbing, the stormiest passions with force enough to carry everything before them, even if they bring deep grief—that is life.