A Pin Has A Head, But Has

My Heart Is Like A Singing Bird Whose Nest Is In A Water'd Shoot; My Heart Is Like An Apple-tree Whose Boughs Are Bent With Thick-set Fruit.

Not As She Is, But As She Fills His Dream

For One Man Is My World Of All The Men This Wide World Holds; O Love, My World Is You.

I Wonder If The Sap Is Stirring Yet, If Wintry Birds Are Dreaming Of A Mate, If Frozen Snowdrops Feel As Yet The Sun And Crocus Fires Are Kindling One By One: Sing Robin, Sing: I Still Am Sore In Doubt Concerning Spring.

Because The Birthday Of My Life Is Come, My Love Is Come To Me.