Love Can Do All But Raise The

The Service Without Hope Is Tenderest, I Think-- ... There Is No Diligence Like That That Knows Not An Until

A Bayonet's Contrition Is Nothing To The Dead.

And You Dropt, Lost, When Something Broke-- And Let You From A Dream

At Least To Pray Is Left - Is Left Oh Jesus - In The Air - I Know Not Which Thy Chamber Is - I'm Knocking Everywhere.

A Precious, Mouldering Pleasure 't Is To Meet An Antique Book In Just The Dress His Century Wore; A Privilege, I Think, His Venerable Hand To Take, And Warming In Our Own, A Passage Back, Or Two, To Make To Times When He Was Young. His Quaint Opinions To Inspect, His Knowledge To Unfold On What Concerns Our Mutual Mind, The Literature Of Old.