Outside are the storms and strangers: we — Oh, close, safe, warm sleep I and she, — I and she!

Lost, lost! one moment knelled the woe of years.

How very hard it is to be a Christian!

As is your sort of mind, So is your sort of search: You will find what you desire.

All June I bound the rose in sheaves, Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves.

So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon, Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon!

There is no truer truth obtainable by Man than comes of music