Still more labyrinthine buds the rose.

What Youth deemed crystal, Age finds out was dew.

You call for faith: I show you doubt, to prove that faith exists. The more of doubt, the stronger faith, I say, If faith o'ercomes doubt.

Stung by the splendour of a sudden thought.

In God's good time, Which does not always fall on Saturday When the world looks for wages.

Why comes temptation but for man to meet And master and make crouch beneath his foot, And so be pedestaled in triumph?

Who hears music feels his solitude peopled at once.