I Do Not Think I Have Ever

No Wonder Of It: Sheer Plod Makes Plough Down Sillion Shine, And Blue-bleak Embers, Ah My Dear, Fall, Gall Themselves, And Gash Gold-vermilion.

Nothing Is So Beautiful As Spring- When Weeds In Wheels, Shoot Long And Lovely And Lush.

What Are Works Of Art For? To Educate, To Be Standards. To Produce Is Of Little Use Unless What We Produce Is Known, Is Widely Known, The Wider Known The Better, For It Is By Being Known That It Works, It Influences, It Does Its Duty, It Does Good. We Must Try, Then, To Be Known, Aim At It, Take Means To It. And This Without Puffing In The Process Or Pride In The Success.

And I Have Asked To Be Where No Storms Come, Where The Green Swell Is In The Havens Dumb, And Out Of The Swing Of The Sea.

God?is So Great That All Things Give Him Glory If You Mean They Should.