Even With One Companion Ecstasy Is Almost

What I Do Is Me, For That I Came.

I Thought How Sadly Beauty Of Inscape Was Unknown And Buried Away From Simple People And Yet How Near At Hand It Was If They Had Eyes To See It And It Could Be Called Out Everywhere Again.

I Hold With The Old-fashioned Criticism That Browning Is Not Really A Poet, That He Has All The Gifts But The One Needful And The Pearls Without The String; Rather One Should Say Raw Nuggets And Rough Diamonds.

Searching Nature I Taste Self But At One Tankard, That Of My Own Being.

And Though We Do Have Him Before Our Eyes, Masked In The Sacred Host, At Mass And Benediction And Within Our Lips Receive Him At Communion, Yet To Hear Of Him And Dwell On The Thought Of Him Will Do Us Good.