The Beautiful Are Never Desolate; But Some

Star Canto: Star Speaks Light, And World To World Repeats The Passage Of The Universe To God; The Name Of Christ--the One Great Word Well Worth All Languages In Earth Or Heaven.

Dewdrops, Nature's Tears, Which She Sheds In Her Own Breast For The Fair Which Die. The Sun Insists On Gladness; But At Night, When He Is Gone, Poor Nature Loves To Weep.

Fine Thoughts Are Wealth, For The Right Use Of Which Men Are And Ought To Be Accountable,-- If Not To Thee, To Those They Influence.

Poetry Is Itself A Thing Of God; He Made His Prophets Poets; And The More We Feel Of Poesie Do We Become Like God In Love And Power,-under-makers.

Nature Means Necessity.