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

But I can tell - let truth be told - That love will change in growing old; Though day by day is nought to see, So delicate his motions be.

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

When Death to either shall come - I pray it be first to me.

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.

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.