But there are times when patience proves at fault.

Better have failed in the high aim, as I, Than vulgarly in the low aim succeed As, God be thanked! I do not.

Kiss me as if you made believe You were not sure this eve, How my face, your flower, had pursed It's petals up.

Rejoice that man is hurled, From change to change unceasingly, His soul's wings never furled!

Believeth with the life, the pain shall stop.

Pippa's Song The year's at the spring The day's at the morn Morning's at seven, The Hill side's dew-pearled The lark's on the wing The snail's on the thorn God's in his heaven- All's right with the world

What's the earth With all its art, verse, music, worth — Compared with love, found, gained, and kept?