He Who Trusts A Secret To His

I Saw Myself The Lambent Easy Light Gild The Brown Horror, And Dispel The Night.

Like Pilgrims To Th' Appointed Place We Tend; The World's An Inn, And Death The Journey's End.

But How Can Finite Grasp Infinity?

Fool That I Was, Upon My Eagle's Wings I Bore This Wren, Till I Was Tired With Soaring, And Now He Mounts Above Me.

Great Souls Forgive Not Injuries Till Time Has Put Their Enemies Within Their Power, That They May Show Forgiveness Is Their Own.