I Am Glad To Think I Am

The Moon Is Bleached As White As Wool, And Just Dropping Under; Every Star Is Gone But Three, And They Hang Far Asunder,-- There's A Sea-ghost All In Gray, A Tall Shape Of Wonder!

Man Is The Miracle In Nature. God Is The One Miracle To Man.

How Short Our Happy Days Appear! How Long The Sorrowful!

O Sleep, We Are Beholden To Thee, Sleep; Thou Bearest Angels To Us In The Night, Saints Out Of Heaven With Palms. Seen By Thy Light Sorrow Is Some Old Tale That Goeth Not Deep; Love Is A Pouting Child.

When Sparrows Build And The Leaves Break Forth My Old Sorrow Wakes And Cries.