Hurt no living thing: Ladybird, nor butterfly, Nor moth with dusty wing.

Does the road wind up-hill all the way? Yes, to the very end.

Remember me when I am gone away, gone far away into the silent land.

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; My heart is like a rainbow shell That paddles in a halcyon sea; My heart is gladder than all these, Because my love is come to me. Raise me a daïs of silk and down; Hang it with vair and purple dyes; Carve it in doves and pomegranates, And peacocks with a hundred eyes; Work it in gold and silver grapes, In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys; Because the birthday of my life Is come, my love is come to me.

O Lord, who art our guide even unto death, grant us, I pray Thee, grace to follow Thee whithersoever Thou goest. In little daily duties to which Thou callest us, bow down our wills to simple obedience.

I lock my door upon myself, And bar them out; but who shall wall Self from myself, most loathed of all?

Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I but when the trees bow down their heads, the wind is passing by.