There's a new tribunal now higher than God's -The educated man's!

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

What a name! Was it love or praise? Speech half-asleep or song half-awake? I must learn Spanish, one of these days, Only for that slow sweet name's sake.

Most progress is most failure.

Only I discern Infinite passion, and the pain Of finite hearts that yearn.

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

There shall never be one lost good! What was, shall live as before; The evil is null, is nought, is silence implying sound; What was good shall be good, with for evil so much good more; On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven, a perfect round.