And All Winds Go Sighing For Sweet

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.

Faith Is Like A Lily, Lifted High And White.

Hope Dead Lives Nevermore, No, Not In Heaven.

The City Mouse Lives In A House, The Garden Mouse Lives In A Bower

What Is Pink? A Rose Is Pink By The Fountain's Brink.