She Has Seen The Mystery Hid Under

And Is It Not The Chief Good Of Money, The Being Free From The Need Of Thinking Of It?

And Lilies Are Still Lilies, Pulled By Smutty Hands, Though Spotted From Their White.

Earth May Embitter, Not Remove, The Love Divinely Given; And E'en That Mortal Grief Shall Prove The Immortality Of Love, And Lead Us Nearer Heaven.

Nosegays! Leave Them For The Waking, Throw Them Earthward Where They Grew Dim Are Such, Beside The Breaking Amaranths He Looks Unto. Folded Eyes See Brighter Colors Than The Open Ever Do.

And Lips Say “god Be Pitiful,” Who Ne'er Said “god Be Praised.”