Were There No God, We

This Life Is But The Passage Of A Day, This Life Is But A Pang And All Is Over; But In The Life To Come Which Fades Not Away Every Love Shall Abide And Every Lover.

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.

Yet Come To Me In Dreams, That I May Live My Very Life Again Though Cold In Death; Come Back To Me In Dreams, That I May Give Pulse For Pulse, Breath For Breath: Speak Low, Lean Low, As Long Ago, My Love, How Long Ago

It Is Not The Deed We Do Though The Deed Be Never So Fair, But The Love That The Dear Lord Looketh For, Hidden With Lovely Care In The Heart Of The Deed So Fair.

Does The Road Wind Up-hill All The Way? Yes, To The Very End.