Because The Birthday Of My Life Is

I Have A Room Whereinto No One Enters Save I Myself Alone: There Sits A Blessed Memory On A Throne, There My Life Centres.

Tread Softly! All The Earth Is Holy Ground.

Rest, Rest At The Heart's Core . . . Till Joy Shall Overtake.

January Cold And Desolate; February Dripping Wet; March Wind Ranges; April Changes; Birds Sing In Tune To Flowers Of May, And Sunny June Brings Longest Day; In Scorched July The Storm-clouds Fly, Lightning-torn; August Bears Corn, September Fruit; In Rough October Earth Must Disrobe Her; Stars Fall And Shoot In Keen November; And Night Is Long And Cold Is Strong In Bleak December.

As A Tree My Sin Stands To Darken All Lands; Death Is The Fruit It Bore.