After such knowledge, what forgiveness?

We see the light but see not whence it comes. O Light Invisible, we glorify Thee!

The dove descending breaks the air With flame of incandescent terror Of which the tongues declare The one discharge from sin and error. The only hope, or else despair Lies in the choice of pyre or pyre- To be redeemed from fire by fire. Who then devised the torment? Love. Love is the unfamiliar Name Behind the hands that wove The intolerable shirt of flame Which human power cannot remove. We only live, only suspire Consumed by either fire or fire.

April is the cruellest month.

There is not a more repulsive spectacle than on old man who will not forsake the world, which has already forsaken him.

The tiger springs in the new year. Us he devours.

The nightingales are singing near The Convent of the Sacred Heart, And sang within the bloody wood When Agamemnon cried aloud, And let their liquid siftings fall To stain the stiff dishonored shroud.