Spring is come home with her world-wandering feet, And all things are made young with your desires.

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

Spring is come home with her world-wandering feet, And all things are made young with your desires.

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

An atheist is a man who believes himself an accident.

There is no expeditious road To pack and label men for God, And save them by the barrel-load. Some may perchance, with strange surprise, Have blundered into Paradise.

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