Lord I Do Fear / Thou'st Made

There Isn't A Train I Wouldn't Take, No Matter Where It's Going.

Ah! Up Then From The Ground Sprang I And Hailed The Earth With Such A Cry As Is Not Heard Save From A Man Who Has Been Dead, And Lives Again. About The Trees My Arms I Wound; Like One Gone Mad I Hugged The Ground; I Raised My Quivering Arms On High; I Laughed And Laughed Into The Sky.

Beauty Is Whatever Gives Joy.

But You Were Something More Than Young And Sweet And Fair, - And The Long Year Remembers You.

Oh, Children, Growing Up To Be Adventurers Into Sophistry, Forbear, Forbear To Be Of Those That Read The Rood To Learn The Rose.