Out Alone In The Winter Rain, /

I'd Like To Get Away From Earth Awhile And Then Come Back To It And Begin Over. May No Fate Wilfully Misunderstand Me And Half Grant What I Wish And Snatch Me Away Not To Return. Earth's The Right Place For Love: I Don't Know Where It's Likely To Go Better.

The Trees That Have It In Their Pent-up Buds To Darken Nature And Be Summer Woods.

I Own I Never Really Warmed To The Reformer Or Reformed. And Yet Conversion Has Its Place Not Halfway Down The Scale Of Grace.

End Is A Gloomy Word.

Let Him That Is Without Stone Among You Cast The First Thing He Can Lay His Hands On.