Already with thee! tender is the night. . . But here there is no light. . .

And how they kist each other's tremulous eyes.

You cannot conceive how I ache to be with you: how I would die for one hour.

Of love, that fairest joys give most unrest.

There was an awful rainbow once in heaven: We know her woof, her texture; she is given In the dull catalogue of common things. Philosophy will clip an angel's wings.

Dancing music, music sad, Both together, sane and mad.

Wherein lies happiness? In that which becks Our ready minds to fellowship divine, A fellowship with essence; till we shine, Full alchemiz’d, and free of space. Behold The clear religion of heaven!