Perhaps the wind
Wails so in winter for the summers dead,
And all sad sounds are nature’s funeral cries
For what has been and is not.

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More from George Eliot

An election is coming. Universal peace is declared, and the foxes have a sincere interest in prolonging the lives of the poultry.

Felix Holt (1866)

Wear a smile and have friends; wear a scowl and have wrinkles. What do we live for if not to make the world less difficult for each other?

Oh may I join the choir invisible
Of those immortal dead who live again
In minds made better by their presence.

Oh may I join the Choir invisible.

His smile is sweetened by his gravity.

Book i.

Certain winds will make men’s temper bad.