My heart is like a singing bird.

Consider The lilies of the field whose bloom is brief:-- We are as they; Like them we fade away As doth a leaf.

She gave up beauty in her tender youth, gave all her hope and joy and pleasant ways; she covered up her eyes lest they should gaze on vanity, and chose the bitter truth.

O passing angel, speed me with a song, a melody of heaven to reach my heart and rouse me to the race and make me strong.

Open wide the windows of our spirits and fill us full of light; open wide the door of our hearts, that we may receive and entertain Thee with all our powers of adoration.

Because the birthday of my life Is come, my love is come to me.

The violets whisper from the shade Which their own leaves have made: Men scent our fragrance on the air, Yet take no heed Of humble lessons we would read.