Flowers Preach To Us If We Will

A Pin Has A Head, But Has No Hair

The Bourne Underneath The Growing Grass, Underneath The Living Flowers, Deeper Than The Sound Of Showers: There We Shall Not Count The Hours By The Shadows As They Pass. Youth And Health Will Be But Vain, Beauty Reckoned Of No Worth: There A Very Little Girth Can Hold Round What Once The Earth Seemed Too Narrow To Contain.

Fair As The Moon And Joyful As The Light; Tot Wan With Waiting, Not With Sorrow Dim; Not As She Is, But Was When Hope Shone Bright; Not As She Is, But As She Fills His Dreams.

Because The Birthday Of My Life Is Come, My Love Is Come To Me.

The Loves That Meet In Paradise Shall Cast Out Fear, And Paradise Hath Room For You And Me And All.