Just Girt Me For The

To Make A Prairie It Takes A Clover And One Bee, -

Love Is Its Own Rescue; For We, At Our Supremest, Are But Its Trembling Emblems.

Answer July- Where Is The Bee- Where Is The Blush- Where Is The Hay? Ah, Said July- Where Is The Seed- Where Is The Bud- Where Is The May- Answer Thee-me-

I Was Almost Persuaded To Be A Christian. I Thought I Never Again Could Be Thoughtless And Worldly. But I Soon Forgot My Morning Prayer Or Else It Was Irksome To Me. One By One My Old Habits Returned And I Cared Less For Religion Than Ever.

For Each Ecstatic Instant We Must An Anguish Pay In Keen And Quivering Ratio To The Ecstasy.