What Youth deemed crystal, Age finds out was dew.
It is the glory and good of Art, That Art remains the one way possible Of speaking truth, to mouths like mine at least.
I count life just a stuff to try the soul's strength on.
I trust in nature for the stable laws of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant and autumn garner to the end of time.
Grow old with me! The best is yet to be.
White shall not neutralize the black, nor good compensate bad in man, absolve him so: life's business being just the terrible choice.
If you get simple beauty and naught else, you get about the best thing God invents.
Finds progress, man's distinctive mark alone, Not God's, and not the beast's God is, they are, Man partly is, and wholly hopes to be.
Thou art my single day, God lends to leaven What were all earth else, with a feel of heaven.
Who hears music feels his solitude peopled at once.
Earth changes, but thy soul and God stand sure.
So, fall asleep love, loved by me... for I know love, I am loved by thee.
Love, hope, fear, faith - these make humanity These are its sign and note and character.
Take away love and our earth is a tomb.
Motherhood: All love begins and ends there.
The sea heaves up, hangs loaded o'er the land, Breaks there, and buries its tumultuous strength.
What's a man's age? He must hurry more, that's all Cram in a day, what his youth took a year to hold.
God is the perfect poet.
Fail I alone, in words and deeds? Why, all men strive and who succeeds?