When one does look up at the grand trees growing up almost to the sky, one does always have longings to pray.

And this I have learned grown-ups do not know the language of shadows.

I like to sing when I have works to do - it does so help.

By the wood-shed is a brook. It goes singing on. Its joy-song does sing in my heart.

When one does look up at the grand trees growing up almost to the sky, one does always have longings to pray.

The wind comes creeping, it calls to me to come go exploring. It sings of the things that are to be found under the leaves. It whispers the dreams of the tall fir trees. It does pipe the gentle song the forest sings on gray days. I hear all the voices calling me. I listen. But I cannot go.

It is such a comfort to nestle up to Michael Angelo Sanzio Raphael when one is in trouble. He is such a grand tree. He has an understanding soul. After I talked with him and listened unto his voice, I slipped down out of his arms.