Pleasantly, Between The Pelting Showers, The Sunshine

All Things That Are On Earth Shall Wholly Pass Away, Except The Love Of God, Which Shall Live And Last For Aye.

There Is No Glory In Star Or Blossom Till Looked Upon By A Loving Eye; There Is No Fragrance In April Breezes Till Breathed With Joy As They Wander By.

A Herd Of Prairie-wolves Will Enter A Field Of Melons And Quarrel About The Division Of The Spoils As Fiercely And Noisily As So Many Politicians.

Look On This Beautiful World, And Read The Truth In Her Fair Page.

I Gazed Upon The Glorious Sky And The Green Mountains Round, And Thought That When I Came To Lie At Rest Within The Ground, 'twere Pleasant, That In Flowery June When Brooks Send Up A Cheerful Tune, And Groves A Joyous Sound, The Sexton's Hand, My Grave To Make, The Rich, Green Mountain-turf Should Break.