Consider The lilies of the field whose bloom is brief:-- We are as they; Like them we fade away As doth a leaf.
My heart is like a singing bird.
Be the green grass above me, with showers and dewdrops wet; and if thou wilt, remember, and if thou wilt, forget.
Heaven is the presence of God.
My heart is breaking for a little love
We must not look at goblin men, We must not buy their fruits: Who knows upon what soil they fed Their hungry thirsty roots?