I Confess That I Love Him, I

I Think Of Love, And You, And My Heart Grows Full And Warm, And My Breath Stands Still... I Can Feel A Sunshine Stealing Into My Soul And Making It All Summer, And Every Thorn, A Rose.

The Soul Should Always Stand Ajar.

Longing, It May Be, Is The Gift No Other Gift Supplies.

I'm Nobody! Who Are You? Are You – Nobody – Too? Then There's A Pair Of Us? Don't Tell! They'd Advertise – You Know! How Dreary – To Be – Somebody! How Public – Like A Frog – To Tell One's Name – The Livelong June – To An Admiring Bog!

Eden Is That Old-fashioned House We Dwell In Every Day Without Suspecting Our Abode Until We Drive Away.