This Life Is But The Passage Of

Yet Come To Me In Dreams, That I May Live My Very Life Again Though Cold In Death; Come Back To Me In Dreams, That I May Give Pulse For Pulse, Breath For Breath: Speak Low, Lean Low, As Long Ago, My Love, How Long Ago

Love Loves For Ever, And Finds A Sort Of Joy In Pain, And Gives With Nought To Take Again, And Loves Too Well To End In Vain: Is The Gain Small Then? Love Laughs At "never", Outlives Our Life, Exceeds The Span Appointed To Mere Mortal Man: All Which Love Is And Does And Can Is All In All Then.

One Day In The Country Is Worth A Month In Town

Who Has Seen The Wind? Neither You Nor I But When The Trees Bow Down Their Heads, The Wind Is Passing By.

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.