Were It Not For Love, Poor Life

For Through It All--above, Beyond It All-- I Know The Far-sent Message Of The Years, I Feel The Coming Glory Of The Light.

This Morning I Deleted The Hyphen From "hell-bound" And Made It One Word; This Afternoon I Redivided It And Restored The Hyphen.

Where's The Need Of Singing Now?

No Matter What We Are, And What We Sing, Time Finds A Withered Leaf In Every Laurel

Shake The Tree Of Life Itself And Bring Down Fruits Unheard Of.