How Like They Are To

I Hear The Wind Among The Trees Playing The Celestial Symphonies; I See The Branches Downward Bent, Like Keys Of Some Great Instrument.

All Things Come Round To Him Who Will But Wait.

I Shot An Arrow Into The Air, It Fell To Earth, I Knew Not Where.

The Air Of Summer Was Sweeter Than Wine.

Talk Not Of Wasted Affection - Affection Never Was Wasted.