I Love Thee Freely, As Men Strive

I Cannot Speak In Happy Tones; The Tear Drops On My Cheek Show I Am Sad; But I Can Speak Of Grace To Suffer With Submission Meek, Until Made Glad.

I Tell You, Hopeless Grief Is Passionless.

I Would Build A Cloudy House For My Thoughts To Live In; When For Earth Too Fancy-loose And Too Low For Heaven! Hush! I Talk My Dream Aloud - I Build It Bright To See, - I Build It On The Moonlit Cloud, To Which I Looked With Thee.

For Poets (bear The Word) Half-poets Even, Are Still Whole Democrats.

The Least Flower, With Brimming Cup, May Stand And Share Its Dew Drop With Another Near.