Reason flies When following the senses, on clipped wings.
Follow your path, and let the people talk.
Be as a tower firmly set; Shakes not its top for any blast that blows.
A prayer may chance to rise From one whose heart lives in the grace of God. A prayer from any other is unheeded.
At grief so deep the tongue must wag in vain; the language of our sense and memory lacks the vocabulary of such pain.
Here my powers rest from their high fantasy, but already I could feel my being turned- instinct and intellect balanced equally. as in a wheel whose motion nothing jars- by the Love that moves the Sun and the other stars.