We Wish For More In Life Rather

How Short Our Happy Days Appear! How Long The Sorrowful!

Yet There Are Some Resting-places, / Life's Untroubled Interludes; / Times When Neither Past Nor Future / On The Soul's Deep Calm Intrudes.

O Fateful Flower Beside The Rill- The Daffodil, The Daffodil!

When Our Thoughts Are Born, Though They Be Good And Humble, One Should Mind How They Are Reared, Or Some Will Go Astray And Shame Their Mother.

O Sleep! O Sleep! Do Not Forget Me. Sometimes Come And Sweep, Now I Have Nothing Left, Thy Healing Hand Over The Lids That Crave Thy Visits Bland, Thou Kind, Thou Comforting One. For I Have Seen His Face, As I Desired, And All My Story Is Done. O, I Am Tired.