Must In Death Your Daylight

And I Have Written Three Books On The Soul, Proving Absurd All Written Hitherto, And Putting Us To Ignorance Again.

Love Is Energy Of Life.

Oh, To Be In England Now That April's There, And Whoever Wakes In England Sees, Some Morning, Unaware.

How Good Is Life, The Mere Living!

If You Can Sit At Set Of Sun And Count The Deeds That You Have Done And Counting Find Oneself-denying Act, One Word That Eased The Heart Of Him That Heard. One Glance Most Kind, Which Fell Like Sunshine Where He Went, Then You May Count That Day Well Spent.