The Lily Is All In White, Like

A Moment's Thinking Is An Hour In Words.

Apothegms Form A Short Cut To Much Knowledge.

While The Steeples Are Loud In Their Joy, To The Tune Of The Bells' Ring-a-ding, Let Us Chime In A Peal, One And All, For We All Should Be Able To Sing Hullah Baloo.

My Tears Must Stop, For Every Drop Hinders Needle And Thread.

Whilst Breezy Waves Toss Up Their Silvery Spray.