O Lovely Lily Clean, O Lily Springing

Love Is A Flame To Set The Will On Fire

It's A Warm Wind, The West Wind, Full Of Birds' Cries; I Never Hear The West Wind But Tears Are In My Eyes. For It Comes From The West Lands, The Old Brown Hills, And April's In The West Wind, And Daffodils.

The Distant Soul Can Shake The Distant Friend's Soul And Make The Longing Felt, Over Untold Miles.

Commonplace People Dislike Tragedy Because They Dare Not Suffer And Cannot Exult.

God Dropped A Spark Down Into Everyone, And If We Find And Fan It To A Blaze, It'll Spring Up And Glow, Like--like The Sun, And Light The Wandering Out Of Stony Ways.