Love That Endures, From Life That Disappears!

We Have Hearts Within, Warm, Live, Improvident, Indecent Hearts.

The Man, Most Man, Works Best For Men, And, If Most Men Indeed, He Gets His Manhood Plainest From His Soul: While, Obviously, This Stringent Soul Itself Obeys Our Old Rules Of Development; The Spirit Ever Witnessing In Ours, And Love, The Soul Of Soul, Within The Soul, Evolving It Sublimely.

Every Age, Through Being Beheld Too Close, Is Ill-discerned By Those Who Have Not Lived Past It.

God Keeps A Niche In Heaven, To Hold Our Idols; And Albeit He Brake Them To Our Faces, And Denied That Our Close Kisses Should Impair Their White,-- I Know We Shall Behold Them Raised, Complete, The Dust Swept From Their Beauty, Glorified, New Memnons Singing In The Great God-light.

Too Much Beauty, I Reckon, Is Nothing But Too Much Sun.