And Lips Say “god Be Pitiful,” Who

An Ignorance Of Means May Minister To Greatness, But An Ignorance Of Aims Make It Impossible To Be Great At All.

We Overstate The Ills Of Life, And Take Imagination... Down Our Earth To Rake.

For Frequent Tears Have Run; The Colours From My Life.

The Essence Of All Beauty, I Call Love, The Attribute, The Evidence, And End, The Consummation To The Inward Sense Of Beauty Apprehended From Without, I Still Call Love.

The Least Flower, With Brimming Cup, May Stand And Share Its Dew Drop With Another Near.