That moment she was mine, mine, fair, Perfectly pure and good: I found A thing to do, and all her hair In one long yellow string I wound Three times her little throat around, And strangled her. No pain felt she; I am quite sure she felt no pain. As a shut bud that holds a bee, I warily oped her lids: again Laughed the blue eyes without a stain. And I untightened the next tress About her neck; her cheek once more Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss . . .

Ah, love, - you are my unutterable blessing.....I am in full sunshine now.

Man seeks his own good at the whole world's cost.

On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven a perfect round.

Inscribe all human effort with one word, artistry's haunting curse, the Incomplete!

All service ranks the same with God,- With God, whose puppets, best and worst, Are we: there is no last nor first.

A minute of success pays for years of failure.