Nature, red in tooth and claw.

What the sunshine is to the flower, the Lord Jesus Christ is to my soul.

A lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies.

I have led her home, my love, my only friend. There is none like her, none, And never yet so warmly ran my blood, And sweetly, on and on Calming itself to the long-wished for end, Full to the banks, close on the prom- ised good.

Fill the cup, and fill the can: Have a rouse before the morn: Every moment dies a man, Every moment one is born.

But what am I? An infant crying in the night: An infant crying for the light: And with no language but a cry.

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