Had we less to say to those we love, perhaps we should say it oftener.
I hope your rambles have been sweet, and your reveries spacious
Much Madness is Divinest Sense, to a Discerning Eye.
The poet lights the light and fades away. But the light goes on and on.
At least to pray is left - is left Oh Jesus - in the Air - I know not which thy chamber is - I'm knocking everywhere.
We never know how high we are till we are called to rise. Then if we are true to form our statures touch the skies.