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The sun shineth upon the dunghill and is not corrupted.
The sun shineth upon the dunghill and is not corrupted.
The gay motes that people the sunbeams.
The gay motes that people the sunbeams.
She stood breast-high amid the corn,
Clasp'd by the golden light of morn,
Like the sweetheart of read more
She stood breast-high amid the corn,
Clasp'd by the golden light of morn,
Like the sweetheart of the sun,
Who many a glowing kiss had won.
Trees go wandering forth in all directions with every wind, going and coming like ourselves, traveling with us around the read more
Trees go wandering forth in all directions with every wind, going and coming like ourselves, traveling with us around the sun two million miles a day, and through space heaven knows how fast and far!
Make hay while the sun shines.
Make hay while the sun shines.
Such words fall to often on our cold and careless ears with the
triteness of long familiarity; but to read more
Such words fall to often on our cold and careless ears with the
triteness of long familiarity; but to Octavia . . . they seemed
to be written in sunbeams.
Thou shalt come out of a warme Sunne into God's blessing.
Thou shalt come out of a warme Sunne into God's blessing.
Father of rosy day,
No more thy clouds of incense rise;
But waking flow'rs,
read more
Father of rosy day,
No more thy clouds of incense rise;
But waking flow'rs,
At morning hours,
Give out their sweets to meet thee in the skies.
