Rest, Rest At The Heart's

A Pin Has A Head, But Has No Hair

Oh Roses For The Flush Of Youth, And Laurel For The Perfect Prime; But Pluck An Ivy Branch For Me Grown Old Before My Time.

Consider The Lilies Of The Field Whose Bloom Is Brief:-- We Are As They; Like Them We Fade Away As Doth A Leaf.

Ah Me, But Where Are Now The Songs I Sang When Life Was Sweet Because You Call’d Them Sweet?

Not As She Is, But As She Fills His Dream