The Lilies Say: Behold How We Preach

Hope Dead Lives Nevermore, No, Not In Heaven.

To Her Whose Heart Is My Heart's Quiet Home, To My First Love, My Mother, On Whose Knee I Learnt Love-lore That Is Not Troublesome.

I Lock My Door Upon Myself, And Bar Them Out; But Who Shall Wall Self From Myself, Most Loathed Of All?

Rest, Rest At The Heart's Core . . . Till Joy Shall Overtake.

Choose Love Not In The Shallows But In The Deep.