I Do Not Think I

Ask Of Her, The Mighty Mother. Her Reply Puts This Other Question: What Is Spring?- Growth In Every Thing - Flesh And Fleece, Fur And Feather, Grass And Green World All Together, Star-eyed Strawberry Breasted Throstle Above Her Nested Cluster Of Bugle Blue Eggs Thin Forms And Warms The Life Within, And Bird And Blossom Swell In Sod Or Sheath Or Shell.

What Is All This Juice And All This Joy?

What Are Works Of Art For? To Educate, To Be Standards. To Produce Is Of Little Use Unless What We Produce Is Known, Is Widely Known, The Wider Known The Better, For It Is By Being Known That It Works, It Influences, It Does Its Duty, It Does Good. We Must Try, Then, To Be Known, Aim At It, Take Means To It. And This Without Puffing In The Process Or Pride In The Success.

When We Hew Or Delve: After-comers Cannot Guess The Beauty Been.

Any Day, Any Minute We Bless God For Our Being Or For Anything, For Food, For Sunlight, We Do And Are What We Were Meant For, Madefor--things That Give And Mean To Give God Glory.