I Am Surprised You Shd. Say Fancy

Ask Of Her, The Mighty Mother. Her Reply Puts This Other Question: What Is Spring?- Growth In Every Thing - Flesh And Fleece, Fur And Feather, Grass And Green World All Together, Star-eyed Strawberry Breasted Throstle Above Her Nested Cluster Of Bugle Blue Eggs Thin Forms And Warms The Life Within, And Bird And Blossom Swell In Sod Or Sheath Or Shell.

And For All This, Nature Is Never Spent; There Lives The Dearest Freshness Deep Down Things; And Though The Last Lights Off The Black West Went Oh, Morning, At The Brown Brink Eastward, Springs— Because The Holy Ghost Over The Bent World Broods With Warm Breast And With Ah! Bright Wings.

To Lift Up The Hands In Prayer Gives God Glory, But A Man With A Dungfork In His Hand, A Woman With A Slop Pail, Give Him Glory, Too. God Is So Great That All Things Give Him Glory If You Mean That They Should.

Thou Art Indeed Just, Lord, If I Contend With Thee; But, Sir, So What I Plead Is Just. Why Do Sinners' Ways Prosper? And Why Must Disappointment All I Endeavour End?

Beauty Is A Relation, And The Apprehension Of It A Comparison.