Spring is come home with her world-wandering feet, And all things are made young with your desires.

The fairest things have fleetest end, Their scent survives their close: But the rose's scent is bitterness To him that loved the rose.

Spring is come home with her world-wandering feet, And all things are made young with your desires.

Look for me in the nurseries of Heaven.

Babies breathe a lot more rapidly than adults do, and what's more, they're also growing quickly and so they're absorbing lots more into the body and they're more fragile in terms of development and so on.

Agnosticism is the everlasting perhaps.

Little Jesus, was Thou shy Once, and just so small as I? And what did it feel like to be Out of Heaven, and just like me?