“Our little systems have their day;They have their day and cease to be…And thou, O Lord, art more than they.”

“I had liefer twenty years/Skip to the broken music of my brains/Than any broken music thou canst make.”

“Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayerThan this world dreams of: Wherefore, let thy voice,Rise like a fountain for me night and day.”

“O, were I loved as I desire to be!What is there in the great sphere of the earth,Or range of evil between death and birth,That I should fear, - if I were loved by thee!All the inner, all the outer world of pain,Clear love would pierce and cleave, if thou wert mine;As I have heard that somewhere in the mainFresh-water springs come up through bitter brine.‘I were joy, not fear, clasped hand in hand with thee,To wait for death - mute - careless of all ills,Apart upon a mountain, though the surgeOf some new deluge from a thousand hillsFlung leagues of roaring foam into the gorgeBelow us, as far on as eye could see.”

“The old order changeth yielding place to new And God fulfills himself in many ways Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me I have lived my life and that which I have done May he within himself make pure but thou If thou shouldst never see my face again Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.”

“Brothers in Art: a friendship so complete”

“Dear as remembered kisses after death,And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'dOn lips that are for others; deep as love,Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;O Death in Life, the days that are no more!”