God gives us love! Something to love He lends us; but when love is grown To ripeness, that on which it throve Falls off, and love is left alone: This is the curse of time.
Sweet is every sound, sweeter the voice, but every sound is sweet.
Kind hearts are more than coronets, And simple faith than Norman blood.
The quiet sense of something lost
That tower of strength Which stood four-square to all the winds that blew.
One so small Who knowing nothing knows but to obey.