Thou art my single day, God lends to leaven What were all earth else, with a feel of heaven.
Death: the grand perhaps.
Go practice if you please with men and women: leave a child alone for Christ's particular love's sake!
O world, as God has made it! All is beauty.
All June I bound the rose in sheaves, Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves.
No work begun shall ever pause for death.