The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but one moon.

You moon, have you done something wrong in heaven / That God has hidden your face?

I don't want to die. But I want to be dead.

The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but one moon.

Her face betokened all things dear and good, The light of somewhat yet to come was there Asleep, and waiting for the opening day, When childish thoughts, like flowers would drift away.

There's no dew left on the daisies and clover; there's no rain left in heaven.

I have lived to thank God that all my prayers have not been answered.