How Short Our Happy Days Appear! How

I Opened The Doors Of My Heart. And Behold, There Was Music Within And A Song, And Echoes Did Feed On The Sweetness, Repeating It Long. I Opened The Doors Of My Heart. And Behold, There Was Music That Played Itself Out In Aeolian Notes: Then Was Heard, As A Far-away Bell At Long Intervals Tolled.

Crowds Of Bees Are Giddy With Clover Crowds Of Grasshoppers Skip At Our Feet, Crowds Of Larks At Their Matins Hang Over, Thanking The Lord For A Life So Sweet.

When I Remember Something Which I Had, But Which Is Gone, And I Must Do Without, I Sometimes Wonder How I Can Be Glad, Even In Cowslip Time When Hedges Sprout; It Makes Me Sigh To Think On It,--but Yet My Days Will Not Be Better Days, Should I Forget.

How Short Our Happy Days Appear! How Long The Sorrowful!

It Is Not Reason Which Makes Faith Hard, But Life.