“The soul is but senses catching fire,Marvellous music of the body's lyre, -The angel senses are the silver stringsStirred by the breath of some unknown desire.”

“Some say we came God's purpose to fulfil -Faith a poor purpose then, if so you will;Sport for the heavenly huntsmen, others say, -Sorry the sport, methinks, and poor the skill.”

“Were I a woman, I would all day longSing my own beauty in some holy song,Bend low before it, hushed and half afraid,And say 'I am a woman' all day long.”

“She's somewhere in the sunlight strong, / Her tears are in the falling rain, / She calls me in the wind's soft song, / And with the flowers she comes again.”

“I meant to do my work today but . . .”

“Would you seek beauty, seek it underground;Would you find strength - the strong are underground;And would you next year seek my love and me,Who knows but you must seek us - underground?”

“WAKE! for the sun, the shepherd of the sky,Has penned the stars within their fold on high,And, shaking darkness from his mighty limbs,Scatters the daylight from his burning eye.”