What So Wild As Words Are?

How Good Is Man's Life, The Mere Living! How Fit To Employ All The Heart And The Soul And The Senses Forever In Joy!

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.

Ah, But A Man's Reach Should Exceed His Grasp, Or What's A Heaven For?

Truth Is Truth Howe'er It Strike.

What Of Soul Was Left, I Wonder, When The Kissing Had To Stop?