Smiling the boy fell dead.
God is the perfect poet, Who in his person acts his own creations.
The lie was dead And damned, and truth stood up instead.
If you get simple beauty and naught else, you get about the best thing God invents.
Outside are the storms and strangers: we — Oh, close, safe, warm sleep I and she, — I and she!
I say, the acknowledgment of God in ChristAccepted by thy reason, solves for theeAll questions in the earth and out of it,And has so far advanced thee to be wise.