Life Must Go On, Though Good Men

Lord, I Do Fear Thou'st Made The World Too Beautiful This Year My Soul Is All But Out Of Me-let Fall No Burning Leaf; Prithee, Let No Bird Call.

Life In Itself / Is Nothing, / An Empty Cup, A Flight Of Uncarpeted Stairs. / It Is Not Enough That Yearly, Down This Hill, / April / Comes Like An Idiot, Babbling And Strewing Flowers.

Cut If You Will With Sleep's Dull Knife, The Years From Off Your Life, My Friend! The Years That Death Takes Off My Life, He'll Take From Off The Other End!

Sorrow Like A Ceaseless Rain Beats Upon My Heart. People Twist And Scream In Pain-- Dawn Will Find Them Still Again; This Has Neither Wax Nor Wane, Neither Stop Nor Start.

And All The Loveliest Things There Be Come Simply, So It Seems To Me.