Who Loves A Garden Loves A Greenhouse

This Cabin, Mary, In My Sight Appears, Built As It Has Been In Our Waning Years, A Rest Afforded To Our Weary Feet, Preliminary To - The Last Retreat.

He Is The Freeman Whom The Truth Makes Free, And All Are Slaves Besides.

For When Was Public Virtue To Be Found Where Private Was Not?

How Shall I Speak Thee, Or Thy Power Address Thou God Of Our Idolatry, The Press. . . . . Like Eden's Dead Probationary Tree, Knowledge Of Good And Evil Is From Thee.

Built God A Church And Laughed His Word To Scorn.