First time he kissed me, he but only kissed The fingers of this hand wherewith I write; And, ever since, it grew more clean and white.

I heard an angel speak last night/And he said, "Write!"

God answers sharp and sudden on some prayers, And thrusts the thing we have prayed for in our face, A gauntlet with a gift in it.

She has seen the mystery hid Under Egypt's pyramid: By those eyelids pale and close Now she knows what Rhamses knows.

Most illogical Irrational nature of our womanhood, That blushes one way, feels another way, And prays, perhaps another!

Experience, like a pale musician, holds a dulcimer of patience in his hand.

So mothers have God's license to be missed.