Believeth with the life, the pain shall stop.
How good is life, the mere living!
And inasmuch as feeling, the East's gift, Is quick and transient,- comes, and lo! is gone, While Northern thought is slow and durable.
O lyric Love, half angel and half bird. And all a wonder and a wild desire.
I show you doubt, to prove that faith exists.
God is the perfect poet, Who in his person acts his own creations.