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 innocent moon, that nothing does but shine,Moves all the labouring surges of the world.

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.

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

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