Art Is A Man's Nature; Nature Is

Dewdrops, Nature's Tears, Which She Sheds In Her Own Breast For The Fair Which Die. The Sun Insists On Gladness; But At Night, When He Is Gone, Poor Nature Loves To Weep.

The Truth Of Truths Is Love.

Dear Lord, Our God And Saviour! For Thy Gifts The World Were Poor In Thanks, Though Every Soul Were To Do Nought But Breathe Them, Every Blade Of Grass, And Every Atomie Of Earth To Utter It Like Dew.

Life's But A Means Unto An End, That End, Beginning, Mean, And End To All Things--god.

The Dew, 'tis Of The Tears Which Stars Weep, Sweet With Joy.