From yon blue heaven above us bent, The grand old gardener and his wife Smile at the claims of long descent.
I am half-sick of shadows,' said The Lady of Shalott.
God and Nature met in light.
Read my little fable: He that runs may read. Most can raise the flowers now, For all have got the seed.
The greater person is one of courtesy.
On all things created remaineth the half-effaced signature of God, Somewhat of fair and good, though blotted by the finger of corruption.