A moment's thinking is an hour in words.
No blessed leisure for love or hope, But only time for grief.
But evil is wrought by want of thought, As well as want of heart!
What is mind? No matter. What is matter? Never mind. What is the soul? It is immaterial.
There is a silence where hath been no sound, There is a silence where no sound may be,- In the cold grave, under the deep, deep sea, Or in the wide desert where no life is found.
We watch'd her breathing through the night, Her breathing soft and low, As in her breast the wave of life Kept heaving to and fro.