Ah, The Souls Of Those That Die

When Thou Are Not Pleased, Beloved, Then My Heart Is Sad And Darkened, As The Shining River Darkens When The Clouds Drop Shadows On It! When Thou Smilest, My Beloved, Then My Troubled Heart Is Brightened, As In Sunshine Gleam The Ripples That The Cold Wind Makes In Rivers.

Ye Are Better Than All The Ballads That Ever Were Sung Or Said; For Ye Are Living Poems, And All The Rest Are Dead.

We See But Dimly Through The Mists And Vapors; Amid These Earthly Damps What Seem To Us But Sad, Funereal Tapers May Be Heaven's Distant Lamps.

Love Is Sunshine, Hate Is Shadow, Life Is Checkered Shade And Sunshine.

Nature Is A Revelation Of God; Art A Revelation Of Man.