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O, the sweet, sweet twilight just before the time of rest, When the black clouds are driven away, and the stormy winds suppressed.

Dinah Maria Murlock Craik

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Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
Rest
Suppressed
Black
Stormy
Away
Winds
Time
Twilight
Clouds
Driven
Sweet
Wind

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With faces like dead lovers who died true.
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How the sting of poverty, or small means, is gone when one keeps house for one's own comfort and not for the comfort of one's neighbors.
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Love never stands still it must inevitably be either growing or decaying - especially the love of marriage.
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If I had to write a book, I could not find anything in the world worth saying - as is indeed the case with many voluminous authors.
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