Life Is A Long Headache In A

It's A Warm Wind, The West Wind, Full Of Birds' Cries.

Death Opens Unknown Doors. It Is Most Grand To Die.

I Have Seen Flowers Come In Stony Places And Kind Things Done By Men With Ugly Faces, And The Gold Cup Won By The Worst Horse At The Races, So I Trust, Too.

Each One Could Be A Jesus Mild, Each One Has Been A Little Child, A Little Child With Laughing Look, A Lovely White Unwritten Book; A Book That God Will Take, My Friend, As Each Goes Out At Journey's End.

Men In A Ship Are Always Looking Up, And Men Ashore Are Usually Looking Down.