Hope Is Like A Hairball Trembling From

Love Loves For Ever, And Finds A Sort Of Joy In Pain, And Gives With Nought To Take Again, And Loves Too Well To End In Vain: Is The Gain Small Then? Love Laughs At "never", Outlives Our Life, Exceeds The Span Appointed To Mere Mortal Man: All Which Love Is And Does And Can Is All In All Then.

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

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

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.

Open Wide The Windows Of Our Spirits And Fill Us Full Of Light; Open Wide The Door Of Our Hearts, That We May Receive And Entertain Thee With All Our Powers Of Adoration.