Give lettered pomp to teeth of Time, So "Bonnie Doon" but tarry; Blot out the epic's stately rhyme, But spare his "Highland Mary!"

If thou of fortune be bereft, and in thy store there be but left two loaves, sell one, and with the dole, buy hyacinths to feed thy soul.

Oh, talk as we may of beauty as a thing to be chiselled from marble or wrought out on canvas, speculate as we may upon its colors and outlines, what is it but an intellectual abstraction, after all? The heart feels a beauty of another kind; looking through the outward environment, it discovers a deeper and more real love-liness.

The hope of all who suffer, The dread of all who wrong.

The good is always beautiful, the beautiful is good!

I'll lift you and you lift me, and we'll both ascend together.

I know not where His islands lift Their fronded palms in air; I only know I cannot drift Beyond His love and care.