Since There My Past Life Lies, Why

Of What I Call God, And Fools Call Nature.

Day! Faster And More Fast. O'er Night's Brim, Day Boils At Last.

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

A Minute Of Success Pays For Years Of Failure.

In God's Good Time, Which Does Not Always Fall On Saturday When The World Looks For Wages.