Work Is Its Own Best Earthly Meed,

We Wish For More In Life Rather Than More Of It.

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.

How Gently Rock Yon Poplars High Against The Reach Of Primrose Sky With Heaven's Pale Candles Stored.

There's No Dew Left On The Daisies And Clover; There's No Rain Left In Heaven.

A Healthful Hunger For A Great Idea Is The Beauty And Blessedness Of Life.