Ornamental Pattern Work, To Be Raised Above

Speak But One Word To Me.

If We Feel The Least Degradation In Being Amorous, Or Merry Or Hungry, Or Sleepy, We Are So Far Bad Animals & Miserable Men.

Love Is Enough Love Is Enough: Though The World Be A-waning, And The Woods Have No Voice But The Voice Of Complaining, Though The Skies Be Too Dark For Dim Eyes To Discover The Gold-cups And Daisies Fair Blooming Thereunder, Though The Hills Be Held Shadows, And The Sea A Dark Wonder, And This Day Draw A Veil Over All Deeds Passed Over, Yet Their Hands Shall Not Tremble, Their Feet Shall Not Falter: The Void Shall Not Weary, The Fear Shall Not Alter These Lips And These Eyes Of The Loved And The Lover.

Speak Not, Move Not, But Listen, The Sky Is Full Of Gold. No Ripple On The River, No Stir In Field Or Fold, All Gleams But Naught Doth Glisten, But The Far-off Unseen Sea. Forget Days Past, Heart Broken, Put All Memory By! No Grief On The Green Hillside, No Pity In The Sky, Joy That May Not Be Spoken Fills Mead And Flower And Tree.

...if Our Houses, Or Clothes, Our Household Furniture And Utensils Are Not Works Of Art, They Are Either Wretched Makeshifts, Or, What Is Worse, Degrading Shams Of Better Things.