I Like That Ancient Saxon

The Poor Too Often Turn Away Unheard, From Hearts That Shut Against Them With A Sound That Will Be Heard In Heaven.

Often Times We Call A Man [or Woman] Cold When He [or She] Is Only Sad.

Know How Sublime A Thing It Is To Suffer And Be Strong.

The Leaves Of Memory Seemed To Make A Mournful Rustling In The Dark

If We Love One Another, Nothing, In Truth, Can Harm Us, Whatever Mischances May Happen.