Grow Old With Me! The Best Is

Mid The Sharp, Short Emerald Wheat, Scarce Risen Three Fingers Well, The Wild Tulip At The End Of Its Tube, Blows Out Its Great Red Bell, Like A Thin Clear Bubble Of Blood, For The Children To Pick And Sell.

Such Ever Was Love's Way: To Rise, It Stoops.

O World, As God Has Made It! All Is Beauty.

The Sea Heaves Up, Hangs Loaded O'er The Land, Breaks There, And Buries Its Tumultuous Strength.

If Thou Tastest A Crust Of Bread, Thou Tastest All The Stars And All The Heavens.