I Work With Patience, Which Is Almost

I Tell You, Hopeless Grief Is Passionless.

Do Ye Hear The Children Weeping, O My Brothers?

My Patience Has Dreadful Chilblains From Standing So Long On A Monument.

For None Can Express Thee, Though All Should Approve Thee. I Love Thee So, Dear, That I Only Can Love Thee.

New Angel Mine, Unhoped For In The World!