I Know The Lands Are Lit, With

Who Longest Waits Most Surely Wins.

O Month When They Who Love Must Love And Wed.

Next Time!' In What Calendar Are Kept The Records Of Those Next Times Which Never Come?

Stain My Eyes As I May, On All Sides All Is Black.

But All Lost Things Are In The Angels' Keeping, Love; No Past Is Dead For Us, But Only Sleeping, Love; The Years Of Heaven With All Earth's Little Pain Make Good Together There We Can Begin Again, In Babyhood.