I Tell You, Hopeless Grief Is Passionless.

First Time He Kissed Me, He But Only Kissed The Fingers Of This Hand Wherewith I Write; And, Ever Since, It Grew More Clean And White.

What Monster Have We Here? A Great Deed At This Hour Of Day? A Great Just Deed - And Not For Pay? Absurd - Or Insincere?

Books Are Men Of Higher Stature, And The Only Men That Speak Aloud For Future Times To Hear.

New Angel Mine, Unhoped For In The World!

But Love Me For Love's Sake, That Evermore Thou May'st Love On, Through Love's Eternity.