Hide me from day's garish eye.

For what can war, but endless war, still breed?

All hope is lost of my reception into grace; what worse? For where no hope is left, is left no fear.

Innumerable as the stars of night, Or stars of morning, dewdrops which the sun Impearls on every leaf and every flower.

Courtesy which oft is found in lowly sheds, with smoky rafters, than in tapestry halls and courts of princes, where it first was named.

Beyond is all abyss, eternity, whose end no eye can reach.

These two imparadised in one another's arms, the happier Eden, shall enjoy their fill of bliss on bliss.