We Must Not Look At Goblin Men,

All Things That Pass Are Wisdom's Looking-glass.

I Wonder If The Sap Is Stirring Yet, If Wintry Birds Are Dreaming Of A Mate, If Frozen Snowdrops Feel As Yet The Sun And Crocus Fires Are Kindling One By One: Sing Robin, Sing: I Still Am Sore In Doubt Concerning Spring.

What Are Heavy? Sea-sand And Sorrow. What Are Brief? Today And Tomorrow. What Are Frail? Spring Blossoms And Youth. What Are Deep? The Ocean And Truth.

For There Is No Friend Like A Sister In Calm Or Stormy Weather; To Cheer One On The Tedious Way, To Fetch One If One Goes Astray, To Lift One If One Totters Down, To Strengthen Whilst One Stands.

Yet Come To Me In Dreams, That I May Live My Very Life Again Though Cold In Death; Come Back To Me In Dreams, That I May Give Pulse For Pulse, Breath For Breath: Speak Low, Lean Low, As Long Ago, My Love, How Long Ago