And old affront will stir the heart Through years of rankling pain.

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

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

O fateful flower beside the rill- The Daffodil, the daffodil!

I am athirst for God, the living God.

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

When sparrows build and the leaves break forth My old sorrow wakes and cries.