He guides me and the bird. In His good time!
There is no truer truth obtainable by Man than comes of music
I know what I want and what I might gain, and yet, how profitless to know.
'Tis only when they spring to Heaven that angels reveal themselves to you.
Just for a handful of silver he left us, Just for a riband to stick in his coat.
What of soul was left, I wonder, when the kissing had to stop?