Our Expenses Are All For Conformity.

Beauty Through My Senses Stole; I Yielded Myself To The Perfect Whole.

God Screens Us Evermore From Premature Ideas.

Echo Waits With Art And Care And Will The Faults Of Song Repair.

For Each New Morning With Its Light, For Rest And Shelter Of The Night, For Health And Food, For Love And Friends, For Everything Thy Goodness Sends.

Poetry Must Be As New As Foam And As Old As The Rock.