What Is Green? The Grass Is Green,

Because The Birthday Of My Life Is Come, My Love Is Come To Me.

Hope Dead Lives Nevermore, No, Not In Heaven.

Consider The Lilies Of The Field Whose Bloom Is Brief:-- We Are As They; Like Them We Fade Away As Doth A Leaf.

And Sometimes I Remember Days Of Old When Fellowship Seemed Not So Far To Seek, And All The World And I Seemed Much Less Cold, And At The Rainbow's Foot Lay Surely Gold, And Hope Felt Strong, And Life Itself Not Weak.

What Is Green? The Grass Is Green, With Small Flowers Between. What Is Violet? Clouds Are Violet In The Summer Twilight. What Is Orange? Why, An Orange, Just An Orange!