Hours Fly, Flowers Die: New Days, New

If All The World Were Music, Our Hearts Would Often Long For One Sweet Strain Of Silence. To Break The Endless Song.

Gratitude Is A Two Fold Love - Love Coming To Visit Us, And Love Running Out To Greet A Welcome Guest.

These Are The Things I Prize And Hold Of Dearest Worth: Light Of The Sapphire Skies, Peace Of The Silent Hills, Shelter Of The Forests, Comfort Of The Grass, Music Of Birds, Murmur Of Little Rills, Shadows Of Cloud That Swiftly Pass, And, After Showers, The Smell Of Flowers And Of The Good Brown Earth,- And Best Of All, Along The Way, Friendship And Mirth.

Every House Where Love Abides And Friendship Is A Guest, Is Surely Home, And Home Sweet Home For There The Heart Can Rest.

Like Water Spilt Upon The Ground--alas, Our Little Lives Flow Swiftly On And Pass; Yet May They Bring Rich Harvests And Green Grass!