Silence 'tis Awe Decrees.

Sorrow, The Heart Must Bear, Sits In The Home Of Each, Conspicuous There. Many A Circumstance, At Least, Touches The Very Breast. For Those Whom Any Sent Away,--he Knows: And In The Live Man's Stead, Armor And Ashes Reach The House Of Each.

It Was Roses, Roses, All The Way, With Myrtle Mixed In My Path Like Mad.

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

Good To Forgive, Best To Forget.

In The Morning Of The World, When Earth Was Nigher Heaven Than Now.