My Patience Has Dreadful Chilblains From Standing

O Death, O Beyond, Thou Art Sweet, Thou Art Strange!

Nor Myrtle--which Means Chiefly Love: And Love Is Something Awful Which One Dare Not Touch So Early O' Mornings.

Light Tomorrow With Today!

I Should Not Dare To Call My Soul My Own.

God Himself Is The Best Poet, And The Real Is His Song.