For the crown of our life as it closes Is darkness, the fruit thereof dust; No thorns go as deep as a rose's, And love is more cruel than lust. Time turns the old days to derision, Our loves into corpses or wives; And marriage and death and division Make barren our lives.

There is no God found stronger than death; and death is a sleep.

Let weakness learn meekness.

I am tired of tears and laughter, And men that laugh and weep Of what may come hereafter For men that sow to reap: I am weary of days and hours, Blown buds of barren flowers, Desires and dreams and powers And everything but sleep.

Yet leave me not; yet, if thou wilt, be free; love me no more, but love my love of thee.

Marvellous mercies and infinite love.

Faith speaks when hope is disassembled; faith lives when hope dies dead.