I Was Born 'neath A Clouded Star.

All The Sugar Was In The Bottom Of The Cup.

It Is Not Good For Beauty That It Should Be A Profession.

In The Beauty Of The Lilies Christ Was Born Across The Sea, With A Glory In His Bosom That Transfigures You And Me; As He Died To Make Men Holy, Let Us Die To Make Men Free, While God Is Marching On.

In The Nature Of Things, I Must Soon Lose Sight Of This Sense Of Constant Metamorphosis Whose Limits Bound Our Human Life.

As Men Have Often Forsaken The Plough And The Anvil At The Summons Of War, Let Women Now Leave All That May Be Left Of Home For A Great And Earnest Day Of Counsel. Let Them Meet First, As Women, To Bewail And Commemorate The Dead. Let Them Solemnly Take Counsel With Each Other As To The Means Whereby The Great Human Family Can Live In Peace.