Such ever was love's way: to rise, it stoops.

Art remains the one way possible of speaking truth.

And I have written three books on the soul, Proving absurd all written hitherto, And putting us to ignorance again.

All's love, yet all's law.

Then welcome each rebuff That turns earth's smoothness rough, Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand, but go! Be our joys three-parts pain! Strive, and hold cheap the strain; Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge the throe!

Say not "a small event!" Why "small"? Costs it more pain that this ye call A "great event" should come to pass From that? Untwine me from the mass Of deeds which make up life, one deed Power shall fall short in or exceed!

Love is energy of life.