Mirth is the Mail of Anguish --
Beauty is not the cause of something, it is what it is.
To be alive──is Power.
We turn not older with years but newer every day.
To see her is a picture- To hear her is a tune- To know her an Intemperance As innocent as June- To know her not-Affliction- To own her for a Friend A warmth as near as if the the Sun Were shining in your Hand.
At least to pray is left - is left Oh Jesus - in the Air - I know not which thy chamber is - I'm knocking everywhere.