Even With One Companion Ecstasy Is Almost

Not, I’ll Not, Carrion Comfort, Despair, Not Feast On Thee; Not Untwist—slack They May Be—these Last Strands Of Man In Me ór, Most Weary, Cry I Can No More. I Can; Can Something, Hope, Wish Day Come, Not Choose Not To Be.

The Best Ideal Is The True And Other Truth Is None. All Glory Be Ascribed To The Holy Three In One.

When I Compare Myself, My Being-myself, With Anything Else Whatever, All Things Alike, All In The Same Degree, Rebuff Me With Blank Unlikeness.

Look At The Stars! Look, Look Up At The Skies! Oh Look At All The Fire-folk Sitting In The Air! The Bright Boroughs, The Circle-citadels There!

Any Day, Any Minute We Bless God For Our Being Or For Anything, For Food, For Sunlight, We Do And Are What We Were Meant For, Madefor--things That Give And Mean To Give God Glory.