Man Is The Miracle In Nature. God

O Sleep, We Are Beholden To Thee, Sleep; Thou Bearest Angels To Us In The Night, Saints Out Of Heaven With Palms. Seen By Thy Light Sorrow Is Some Old Tale That Goeth Not Deep; Love Is A Pouting Child.

I Am Athirst For God, The Living God.

You Moon, Have You Done Something Wrong In Heaven / That God Has Hidden Your Face?

It Is Not Reason Which Makes Faith Hard, But Life.

Her Face Betokened All Things Dear And Good, The Light Of Somewhat Yet To Come Was There Asleep, And Waiting For The Opening Day, When Childish Thoughts, Like Flowers Would Drift Away.