All The Live Murmur Of A Summer's

Life Is Not Having And Getting, But Being And Becoming

Now, The Whole World Hears Or Shall Hear,--surely Shall Hear, At The Last, Though Men Delay, And Doubt, And Faint, And Fail,-- That Promise Faithful:--"fear Not, Little Flock! It Is Your Father's Will And Joy, To Give To You, The Kingdom"!

Others Abide Our Question. Thou Art Free. We Ask And Ask. Thou Smilest And Art Still, Out-topping Knowledge.

Spare Me The Whispering, Crowded Room, The Friends Who Come And Gape And Go, The Ceremonious Air Of Gloom - All, Which Makes Death A Hideous Show.

And Each Day Brings It's Pretty Dust, Our Soon-choked Souls To Fll And We Forget Because We Must, And Not Because We Will.