I Count Life Just A Stuff To

Oh, To Be In England Now That April's There, And Whoever Wakes In England Sees, Some Morning, Unaware.

'tis Only When They Spring To Heaven That Angels Reveal Themselves To You.

We Find Great Things Are Made Of Little Things, And Little Things Go Lessening Till At Last Comes God Behind Them.

Never The Time And The Place And The Loved One All Together.

Day! Faster And More Fast. O'er Night's Brim, Day Boils At Last.