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

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

Nothing begins, and nothing ends, That is not paid with moan; For we are born in others pain And perish in our own.

Thou cannot stir a flower Without troubling a star.

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.

But lilies, stolen from grassy mold, No more curled state unfold, Translated to a vase of gold; In burning throne though they keep still Serenities unthawed and chill.

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