Lord, I Do Fear Thou'st Made The

And All The Loveliest Things There Be Come Simply, So It Seems To Me.

Here's A Song Was Never Sung: Growing Old Is Dying Young.

I Drank At Every Vine, The Last Was Like The First. I Came Upon No Wine So Wonderful As Thirst.

And Reaching Up My Hand To Try, I Screamed To Feel It Touch The Sky.

I Dread No More The First White In My Hair, Or Even Age Itself, The Easy Shoe, The Cane, The Wrinkled Hands, The Special Chair: Time, Doing This To Me, May Alter Too My Anguish, Into Something I Can Bear