Praise Is Deeper Than The Lips

God Smiles As He Has Always Smiled; Ere Suns And Moons Could Wax And Wane, Ere Stars Were Thundergirt, Or Piled The Heavens, God Thought On Me His Child; Ordained A Life For Me, Arrayed Its Circumstances, Every One To The Minutest; Ay, God Said This Head This Hand Should Rest Upon Thus, Ere He Fashioned Star Or Sun.

Genius Has Somewhat Of The Infantine; But Of The Childish Not A Touch Or Taint.

All June I Bound The Rose In Sheaves, Now, Rose By Rose, I Strip The Leaves.

I Am Grown Peaceful As Old Age Tonight.

The Great Mind Knows The Power Of Gentleness.