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

From too much love of living, From hope and fear set free, We thank with brief thanksgiving Whatever gods may be That no life lives for ever; That dead men rise up never; That even the weariest river Winds somewhere safe to sea.

The sun is all about the world we see, the breath and strength of every spring.

Sorrow, on wing through the world for ever, Here and there for awhile would borrow Rest, if rest might haply deliver Sorrow.

A baby's feet, like sea-shells pink Might tempt, should heaven see meet, An angel's lips to kiss, we think, A baby's feet.

Time stoops to no man's lure.

Despair the twin-born of devotion.