Tread Softly! All The Earth Is Holy

Faith Is Like A Lily, Lifted High And White.

Not As She Is, But As She Fills His Dream

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.

Oh Roses For The Flush Of Youth, And Laurel For The Perfect Prime; But Pluck An Ivy Branch For Me Grown Old Before My Time.

Be The Green Grass Above Me, With Showers And Dewdrops Wet; And If Thou Wilt, Remember, And If Thou Wilt, Forget.