How Lucious Lies The Pea

The Distance That The Dead Have Gone Does Not At First Appear- Their Coming Back Seems Possible For Many An Ardent Year.

How Softly Summer Shuts, Without The Creaking Of A Door.

We Turn Not Older With Years But Newer Every Day.

The Sun Proceeds Unmoved To Measure Off Another Day For An Approving God.

It Is Better To Be The Hammer Than The Anvil.