Hope Smiles from the threshold of the year to come, Whispering 'it will be happier'.

This world was once a fluid haze of light, Till toward the centre set the starry tides, And eddied into suns, that wheeling cast The planets: then the monster, then the man.

That loss is common would not make My own less bitter, rather more: Too common! Never morning wore To evening, but some heart did break.

I will be deafer than the blue-eyed cat, And thrice as blind as any noonday owl, To holy virgins in their ecstasies.

A man had given all other bliss, And all his worldly worth for this To waste his whole heart in one kiss Upon her perfect lips.

More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.

To me He is all fault who hath no fault at all: For who loves me must have a touch of earth.