Until, the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.

And homeless near a thousand homes I stood, And near a thousand tables pined and wanted food.

The light that never was, on sea or land; The consecration, and the Poet's dream.

Faith is a passionate intuition.

And you must love him, ere to you He will seem worthy of your love.

The very flowers are sacred to the poor.

Like thoughts whose very sweetness yielded proof that they were born for immortality.