How Like They Are To Human Things!

Ah, How Skillful Grows The Hand That Obeyeth Love's Command! It Is The Heart, And Not The Brain, That To The Highest Doth Attain, And He Who Followeth Love's Behest Far Excelleth All The Rest!

See Yonder Fire! It Is The Moon Slow Rising O'er The Eastern Hill. It Glimmers On The Forest Tips, And Through The Dewy Foliage Drips In Little Rivulets Of Light, And Makes The Heart In Love With Night.

Such Was The Wreck Of The Hesperus, In The Midnight And The Snow! Christ Save Us All From A Death Like This, On The Reef Of Norman's Woe!

Softly The Evening Came /with The Sunset/.

Sit In Reverie And Watch The Changing Color Of The Waves That Break Upon The Idle Seashore Of The Mind.