I, A Stranger And Afraid, In A

To Justify God's Ways To Man.

Nature, Not Content With Denying Him The Ability To Think, Has Endowed Him With The Ability To Write.

Shoulder The Sky, My Lad, And Drink Your Ale.

'tis Spring; Come Out To Ramble The Hilly Brakes Around, For Under Thorn And Bramble About The Hollow Ground The Primroses Are Found. And There's The Windflower Chilly With All The Winds At Play, And There's The Lenten Lily That Has Not Long To Stay And Dies On Easter Day.

Loveliest Of Trees, The Cherry Now Is Hung With Bloom Along The Bough.