Look for me in the nurseries of Heaven.
All things by immortal power. Near of far, to each other linked are, that thou canst not stir a flower without troubling of a star.
Thou cannot stir a flower Without troubling a star.
Spring is come home with her world-wandering feet, And all things are made young with your desires.
Agnosticism is the everlasting perhaps.
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?