Life Seems A Jest Of

What A Man Pays For Bread And Butter Is Worth Its Market Value, And No More. What He Pays For Love's Sake Is Gold Indeed, Which Has A Lure For Angels' Eyes, And Rings Well Upon God's Touchstone.

We Kind O' Thought Christ Went Agin War An' Pillage.

Who Gives Himself With His Alms Feeds Three, Himself, His Hungering Neighbor And Me.

The Dandelions And Buttercups Gild All The Lawn: The Drowsy Bee Stumbles Among The Clover Tops, And Summer Sweetens All To Me.

My Soul Is Not A Palace Of The Past.