A Letter Is A Joy Of Earth

There's A Certain Slant Of Light, On Winter Afternoons, That Oppresses, Like The Weight Of Cathedral Tunes.

There Is Always One Thing To Be Grateful For - That One Is One's Self And Not Somebody Else.

Morning Without You Is A Dwindled Dawn.

I Must Go In, The Fog Is Rising.

Grant Me, O Lord, A Sunny Mind-thy Windy Will To Bear!