See To It That Each Hour's Feelings,

O Never Harm The Dreaming World, The World Of Green, The World Of Leaves, But Let Its Million Palms Unfold The Adoration Of The Trees Of All Man's Works Of Art, A Cathedral Is Greatest. A Vast And Majestic Tree Is Greater Than That.

Do Not Be Troubled Because You Have Not Great Virtues. God Made A Million Spears Of Grass Where He Made One Tree. The Earth Is Fringed And Carpeted, Not With Forests, But With Grasses. Only Have Enough Of Little Virtues And Common Fidelities, And You Need Not Mourn Because You Are Neither A Hero Or A Saint.

In Friendship Your Heart Is Like A Bell Struck Every Time Your Friend Is In Trouble.

A Cup Of Coffee - Real Coffee - Home-browned, Home Ground, Home Made, That Comes To You Dark As A Hazel-eye, But Changes To A Golden Bronze As You Temper It With Cream That Never Cheated, But Was Real Cream From Its Birth, Thick, Tenderly Yellow, Perfect!

What Profusion Is There In His Work! When Trees Blossom There Is Not A Single Breastpin, But A Whole Bosom Full Of Gems; And Of Leaves They Have So Many Suits That They Can Throw Them Away To The Winds All Summer Long. What Unnumbered Cathedrals Has He Reared In The Forest Shades, Vast And Grand, Full Of Curious Carvings, And Haunted Evermore By Tremulous Music; And In The Heavens Above, How Do Stars Seem To Have Flown Out Of His Hand Faster Than Sparks Out Of A Mighty Forge!