A pasty costly-made, Where quail and pigeon, lark and leveret lay, Like fossils of the rock, with golden yolks Imbedded and injellied.

Our little systems have their day; They have their day and cease to be… And thou, O Lord, art more than they.

Shall love be blamed for want of faith?

Strong Son of God, immortal Love, Whom we, that have not seen thy face, By faith, and faith alone, embrace, Believing where we cannot prove.

Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls.

Sweet were the days when I was all unknown, But when my name was lifted up, the storm Brake on the mountain and I cared not for it. Right well know I that fame is half disfame.

Shape your heart to front the hour, but dream not that the hours will last.