Brightest Truth, Purest Trust In The Universe,

Be Sure That God Ne'er Dooms To Waste The Strength He Deigns Impart.

God Is The Perfect Poet.

All June I Bound The Rose In Sheaves, Now, Rose By Rose, I Strip The Leaves.

'tis Well Averred, A Scientific Faith's Absurd.

How He Lies In His Rights Of A Man! Death Has Done All Death Can. And Absorbed In The New Life He Leads, He Recks Not, He Heeds Nor His Wrong Nor My Vengeance; Both Strike On His Senses Alike, And Are Lost In The Solemn And Strange Surprise Of The Change.