Noon - is the Hinge of Day-.

I never saw a moor, I never saw the sea; Yet know I how the heather looks, And what a wave must be. I never spoke with God, Nor visited in Heaven; Yet certain am I of the spot, As if a chart were given.

Enough is so vast a sweetness I suppose it never occurs.

I miss the grasshoppers much, but suppose it is all for the best. I should become too much attached to a trotting world.

Knew I how to pray, to intercede for your [broken] Foot were intuitive - but I am but a Pagan.

At least to pray is left - is left Oh Jesus - in the Air - I know not which thy chamber is - I'm knocking everywhere.

That love is all there is, Is all we know of love.