The Heart Desires, The Hand Refrains. The

As To The Garden, It Seems To Me Its Chief Fruit Is-blackbirds.

Late February Days; And Now, At Last, Might You Have Thought That Winter's Woe Was Past; So Fair The Sky Was And So Soft The Air.

There Is No Excuse For Doing Anything Which Is Not Strikingly Beautiful.

Not On One Strand Are All Life's Jewels Strung.

If I Were Asked To Say What Is At Once The Most Important Production Of Art And The Thing Most To Be Longed For, I Should Answer, A Beautiful House.