Silence Is More Musical Than Any Song.

Where Innocent Bright-eyes Daisies Are With Blades Of Grass Between, Each Daisy Stands Up Like A Star Out Of A Sky Of Green.

My Heart Is Like A Singing Bird Whose Nest Is In A Water'd Shoot; My Heart Is Like An Apple-tree Whose Boughs Are Bent With Thick-set Fruit.

We Must Not Look At Goblin Men, We Must Not Buy Their Fruits: Who Knows Upon What Soil They Fed Their Hungry Thirsty Roots?

Better By Far You Should Forget And Smile Than That You Should Remember And Be Sad.

I Watched A Rose-bud Very Long Brought On By Dew And Sun And Shower, Waiting To See The Perfect Flower: Then When I Thought It Should Be Strong It Opened At The Matin Hour And Fell At Even-song.