Whoso loves, believes in the impossible

In this abundant earth no doubt Is little room for things worn out: Disdain them, break them, throw them by! And if before the days grew rough We once were lov'd, us'd -- well enough, I think, we've far'd, my heart and I.

The beautiful seems right by force of beauty and the feeble wrong because of weakness.

New angel mine, unhoped for in the world!

World's use is cold, world's love is vain, world's cruelty is bitter bane; but is not the fruit of pain.

Men get opinions as boys learn to spell by reiteration chiefly.

Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God: But only he who sees takes off his shoes.