When I Am Dead, My Dearest, Sing

My Heart Is Like A Singing Bird Whose Nest Is In A Water'd Shoot; My Heart Is Like An Apple-tree Whose Boughs Are Bent With Thick-set Fruit.

There Is No Time Like Spring When Life's Alive In Everything, Before New Nestlings Sing, Before Cleft Swallows Speed Their Journey Back Along The Trackless Track.

For One Man Is My World Of All The Men This Wide World Holds; O Love, My World Is You.

Hurt No Living Thing: Ladybird, Nor Butterfly, Nor Moth With Dusty Wing.

Silence Is More Musical Than Any Song.