O Thrush, Your Song Is

There Was A Knight Came Riding By In Early Spring, When The Roads Were Dry; And He Heard That Lady Sing At The Noon, Two Red Roses Across The Moon.

I Am Going Your Way, So Let Us Go Hand In Hand. You Help Me And I'll Help You. We Shall Not Be Here Very Long ... So Let Us Help One Another While We May.

Art Made By The People For The People, As A Joy To The Maker And The User.

The Wind Is Not Helpless For Any Man's Need, Nor Falleth The Rain But For Thistle And Weed.

Earth, Left Silent By The Wind Of Night,seems Shrunken 'neath The Gray Unmeasured Height.