The lonely season in lonely lands, when fled Are half the birds, and mists lie low, and the sun Is rarely seen, nor strayeth far from his bed; The short days pass unwelcomed one by one.

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

The lonely season in lonely lands, when fled Are half the birds, and mists lie low, and the sun Is rarely seen, nor strayeth far from his bed; The short days pass unwelcomed one by one.

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

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.