Unto us all our days are love's anniversaries, each one In turn hath ripened something of our happiness.

Beauty, the eternal Spouse of the Wisdom of God and Angel of his Presence thru' all creation.

Scatter the clouds that hide The face of heaven, and show Where sweet peace doth abide, Where Truth and Beauty grow.

I know that if odour were visible, as colour is, I'd see the summer garden in rainbow clouds.

O soul, be patient: thou shalt find A little matter mend all this; Some strain of music to thy mind, Some praise for skill not spent amiss.

Beauty being the best of all we know sums up the unsearchable and secret aims of nature.

Unto us all our days are love's anniversaries, each one In turn hath ripened something of our happiness.