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.

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

Can anything be sadder than work left unfinished? Yes, work never begun.

O Lord, I cannot plead my love of Thee: I plead Thy love of me: - the shallow conduit hails the unfathomed sea.

Why one day in the country Is worth a month in town; Is worth a day and a year Of the dusty, musty, lag-last fashion That days drone elsewhere.

Flowers preach to us if we will hear.

Were there no God, we would be in this glorious world with grateful hearts, and no one to thank.