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.

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

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

My delight and thy delight Walking, like two angels white, In the gardens of the night.

When first we met we did not guess that Love would prove so hard a master.

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