If I Were In Heaven, Nelly, I

The Tyrant Grinds Down His Slaves And They Don't Turn Against Him, They Crush Those Beneath Them.

I Lingered Round Them, Under That Benign Sky; Watched The Moths Fluttering Among The Heath And Hare-bells; Listened To The Soft Wind Breathing Through The Grass; And Wondered How Anyone Could Ever Imagine Unquiet Slumbers For The Sleepers In That Quiet Earth.

I See Heaven's Glories Shine And Faith Shines Equal.

Tis Moonlight, Summer Moonlight, All Soft And Still And Fair; The Solemn Hour Of Midnight Breathes Sweet Thoughts Everywhere, But Most Where Trees Are Sending Their Breezy Boughs On High, Or Stooping Low Are Lending A Shelter From The Sky. And There In Those Wild Bowers A Lovely Form Is Laid; Green Grass And Dew-steeped Flowers Wave Gently Round Her Head.

Honest People Don't Hide Their Deeds.