Infinity Is A Dark Illimitable Ocean, Without

Her Virtue And The Conscience Of Her Worth, That Would Be Woo'd, And Not Unsought Be Won.

And Storied Windows Richly Dight, Casting A Dim Religious Light. There Let The Pealing Organ Blow, To The Full-voiced Choir Below, In Service High, And Anthems Clear As May, With Sweetness, Through Mine Ear Dissolve Me Into Ecstasies, And Bring All Heaven Before Mine Eyes.

Who Can In Reason Then Or Right Assume Monarchy Over Such As Live By Right His Equals, If In Power Or Splendor Less, In Freedom Equal?

Sweet Is The Breath Of Morn, Her Rising Sweet, With Charm Of Earliest Birds.

For What Can War, But Endless War, Still Breed?