The beast faith lives on its own dung.
There grows No herb of help to heal a coward heart.
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.
Marvellous mercies and infinite love.
Life is the lust of a lamp for the light that is dark till the dawn of the day that we die.
Before the beginning of years There came to the making of man Time with a gift of tears, Grief with a glass that ran .