Love Is The Only Flower That Grows

O Love, Whose Lordly Hand Has Bridled My Desires, And Raised My Hunger And My Thirst To Dignity And Pride, Let Not The Strong In Me And The Constant Eat The Bread Or Drink The Wine That Tempt My Weaker Self. Let Me Rather Starve, And Let My Heart Parch With Thirst, And Let Me Die And Perish, Ere I Stretch My Hand To A Cup You Did Not Fill, Or A Bowl You Did Not Bless.

Solitude Has Soft, Silky Hands, But With Strong Fingers It Grasps The Heart And Makes It Ache With Sorrow.

The Wolves Prey Upon The Lambs In The Darkness Of The Night, But The Blood Stains Remain Upon The Stones In The Valley Until The Dawn Comes, And The Sun Reveals The Crime To All.

Doubt Is A Pain Too Lonely To Know That Faith Is His Twin Brother.

Love Has No Other Desire But To Fulfill Itself, But If You Love And Must Needs Have Desires, Let These Be Your Desires.