God Is Indeed A Jealous God. He

Nature, Like Us Is Sometimes Caught Without Her Diadem.

Here Is A Little Forest Whose Leaf Is Ever Green; Here Is A Brighter Garden, Where Not A Frost Has Been; In Its Unfading Flowers I Hear The Bright Bee Hum; Prithee, My Brother, Into My Garden Come!

Eternity' Is There, We Say, As Of A Station. Meanwhile, He Is So Near, He Joins Me In My Ramble? Divides Abode With Me? No Friend Have I That So Persists As This Eternity.

The Abdication Of Belief Makes The Behavior Small- Better An Ignis Fatuus Than No Illume At All.

The Crime, From Us, Is Hidden, [though] He Is Presumed To Know.