Spring’s last-born darling, clear-eyed, sweet, Pauses a moment, with white twinkling feet, — Sarah Chauncey Woolsey
Few things are more aggravating than to be forgiven when one has done no wrong. — Sarah Chauncey Woolsey
Softly drops the crimson sun: Softly down from overhead, Drop the bell-notes, — Sarah Chauncey Woolsey
If a man write a better book, preach a better sermon, or make a better mousetrap than his neighbor — Sarah Chauncey Woolsey
