Not For The Flag Of Any Land

It's Little I Know What's In My Heart,what's In My Mind It's Little I Know,but There's That In Me Must Up And Start,and It's Little I Care Where My Feet Go.

Cruel Of Heart, Lay Down My Song. Your Reading Eyes Have Done Me Wrong. Not For You Was The Pen Bitten, And The Mind Wrung, And The Song Written.

Music My Rampart, And My Only One.

[on Going To Sunday School:] It Looks Like Rain, And I Hope It Will Rain Cats And Dogs And Hammers And Pitchforks And Silver Sugar Spoons And Hay Ricks And Paper-covered Novels And Picture Frames And Rag Carpets And Toothpicks And Skating Rinks And Birds Of Paradise And Roof Gardens And Burdocks And French Grammars Before Sunday School Time.

To What Purpose, April, Do You Return Again? Beauty Is Not Enough.