Does The Road Wind Up-hill All The

One Day In The Country Is Worth A Month In Town

Faith Is Like A Lily, Lifted High And White.

Love Shall Be Our Token; Love Be Yours And Love Be Mine.

I Watched A Rose-bud Very Long Brought On By Dew And Sun And Shower, Waiting To See The Perfect Flower: Then When I Thought It Should Be Strong It Opened At The Matin Hour And Fell At Even-song.

I Lock My Door Upon Myself, And Bar Them Out; But Who Shall Wall Self From Myself, Most Loathed Of All?