So for thy spirit did devise Its Maker seemly garniture, Of its own essence parcel pure.-- From grave simplicities a dress, And reticent demureness, And love encinctured with reserve; Which the woven vesture would subserve. For outward robes in their ostents Should show the soul's habiliments. Therefore I say,--Thou'rt fair even so, But better Fair I use to know.

Thou cannot stir a flower Without troubling a star.

Baby smiled, mother wailed, Earthward while the sweetling sailed; Mother smiled, baby wailed, When to earth came Viola.

Oh invisible, we view thee, O world intangible, we touch thee, o world unknowable, we know thee.

Little Jesus, was Thou shy Once, and just so small as I? And what did it feel like to be Out of Heaven, and just like me?

Agnosticism is the everlasting perhaps.

The fairest things have fleetest end, Their scent survives their close: But the rose's scent is bitterness To him that loved the rose.