With my singing I can make, a refuge for my spirit's sake; a house of shining words, to be my fragile immortality.

I saw a star slide down the sky Blinding the north as it went by Too buring and too quick to hold Too lovely to be bought or sold Good only to make wishes on And then forever to be gone

Faults They came to tell your faults to me, They named them over one by one; I laughed aloud when they were done, I knew them all so well before,-- Oh, they were blind, too blind to see Your faults had made me love you more.

Call him wise whose actions, words, and steps are all a clear because to a clear why.

It is my heart that makes my songs, not I.

The grass is waking in the ground, / Soon it will rise and blow in waves - / How can it have the heart to sway / Over the graves, / New graves?

Take love when love is given, But never think to find it A sure escape from sorrow Or a complete repose.