Unless you can love, as the angels may, With the breadth of heaven betwixt you; Unless you can dream that his faith is fast, Through behoving and unbeloving; Unless you can die when the dream is past- Oh, never call it loving!

Escape me? Never, beloved! While I am I, and you are you.

O woman-country! wooed not wed, Loved all the more by earth's male-lands, Laid to their hearts instead.

They are perfect; how else?-they shall never change: We are faulty; why not?-we have time in store.

He guides me and the bird. In His good time!

Make us happy and you make us good.

When is man strong until he feels alone?