Beauty Crowds Me Till I Die.

Forever - Is Composed Of Nows - 'tis Not A Different Time... Let Months Dissolve In Further Months - And Years - Exhale In Years.

The Older I Grow The More Do I Love Spring And Spring Flowers. Is It So With You?

She Rose To His Requirement, Dropped The Playthings Of Her Life To Take The Honorable Work Of Woman And Of Wife.

The Lovely Flowers Embarrass Me. They Make Me Regret I Am Not A Bee.

My Love For Those I Love -- Not Many -- Not Very Many, But Don't I Love Them So?