I Show You Doubt, To Prove That

Twere Too Absurd To Slight For The Hereafter The Todays Delight!

He Guides Me And The Bird. In His Good Time!

We Shall March Prospering,-not Thro' His Presence; Songs May Inspirit Us,-not From His Lyre; Deeds Will Be Done,-while He Boasts His Quiescence, Still Bidding Crouch Whom The Rest Bade Aspire.

It Was Roses, Roses, All The Way, With Myrtle Mixed In My Path Like Mad.

All Will Be Gay When Noontide Wakes Anew The Buttercups, The Little Children's Dower.