If I Could I Would Always Work

I Am Now Quite Cured Of Seeking Pleasure In Society, Be It Country Or Town.

I Have Fled My Country And Gone To The Heather.

The Winter Wind Is Loud And Wild, Come Close To Me, My Darling Child; Forsake Thy Books, And Mate Less Play; And, While The Night Is Gathering Grey, We'll Talk Its Pensive Hours Away.

What Kind Of Living Will It Be When You - Oh, God! Would You Like To Live With Your Soul In The Grave?

I Love The Ground Under His Feet, And The Air Over His Head, And Everything He Touches And Every Word He Says. I Love All His Looks, And All His Actions And Him Entirely And All Together.