Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time.
My creed is love and you are its only tenet.
It ought to come like the leaves to the trees, or it better not come at all.
To Hope "When by my solitary hearth I sit, And hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom; When no fair dreams before my 'mind's eye' flit, And the bare heath of life presents no bloom; Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed, And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head.
That queen of secrecy, the violet.
How does the poet speak to men with power, but by being still more a man than they