The Reward Of Labour Is Life. Is

I Am Going Your Way, So Let Us Go Hand In Hand. You Help Me And I'll Help You. We Shall Not Be Here Very Long ... So Let Us Help One Another While We May.

Late February Days; And Now, At Last, Might You Have Thought That Winter's Woe Was Past; So Fair The Sky Was And So Soft The Air.

Free Men Must Live Simple Lives And Have Simple Pleasures.

Slayer Of The Winter, Art Thou Here Again? O Welcome, Thou That Bring'st The Summer Nigh! The Bitter Wind Makes Not The Victory Vain. Nor Will We Mock Thee For Thy Faint Blue Sky.

To Happy Folkall Heaviest Words No More Of Meaning Bearthan Far-off Bells Saddening The Summer Air.