Nothing speaks our grief so well as to speak nothing.

Eyes that displace the neighbor diamond, and outface that sunshine by their own sweet grace.

And when life's sweet fable ends, soul and body part like friends; no quarrels, murmurs, no delay; a kiss, a sigh, and so away.

Hark! She is called, the parting hour is come. Take thy farewell, poor world! Heaven must go home. . . .

Two went to pray? Better to say one went to brag, the other to pray.

A pillow for thee will I bring,Stuffed with down of angel's wing.

Heaven's great artillery.