I know not which I love the most, Nor which the comeliest shows, The timid, bashful violet Or the royal-hearted rose: The pansy in her purple dress, The pink with cheek of red, Or the faint, fair heliotrope, who hangs, Like a bashful maid her head.
There are eyes half defiant, Half meek and compliant; Black eyes, with a wondrous, witching charm To bring us good or to work us harm.Phoebe Cary
And though hard be the task,"Keep a stiff upper lip".Phoebe Cary
Nearer my Father's house,Where the many mansions be,Nearer the great white throne,Nearer the crystal sea.Nearer the bound of life,Where we lay our burdens down,Nearer leaving the cross,Nearer gaining the crown.Phoebe Cary
Father, perfect my trust;Let my spirit feel in death,That her feet are firmly setOn the rock of a living faith!Phoebe Cary
Her washing ended with the day,Yet lived she at its close,And passed the long, long night awayIn darning ragged hose.But when the sun in all its stateIllumed the Eastern skies,She passed about the kitchen grateAnd went to making pies.Phoebe Cary
You may wear your virtues as a crown, As you walk through life serenely, And grace your simple rustic gown With a beauty more than queenly. Though only one for you shall care, One only speak your praises; And you never wear in your shining hair, A richer flower than daisies.Phoebe Cary