Midnight Brought On The Dusky Hour Friendliest

What Am I Pondering, You Ask? So Help Me God, Immortality.

From That High Mount Of God Whence Light And Shade Spring Both, The Face Of Brightest Heaven Had Changed To Grateful Twilight.

And If By Prayer Incessant I Could Hope To Change The Will Of Him Who All Things Can, I Would Not Cease To Weary Him With My Assiduous Cries.

The Mountain Nymph, Sweet Liberty.

With Cowslips Wan That Hang The Pensive Head, And Every Flower That Sad Embroidery Wears.