How gently rock yon poplars high Against the reach of primrose sky With heaven's pale candles stored.

Children bring their own love with them when they come.

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

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

And bitter waxed the fray; Brother with brother spake no word When they met in the way.

I have lived life long enough to thank God that all my prayers have not been answered

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