“What long-dead face makes here the grass so green?On what earth-buried bosom do we lean?Ah! love, when we in turn are grass and flowers,By what kind eyes to come shall we be seen?”

“Like to a maid who exquisitely turnsA promising face to him who, waiting, burnsIn hell to hear her answer - so the worldTricks all, and hints what no man ever learns.”

“To all of us the thought of heaven is dear -Why not be sure of it and make it here?No doubt there is a heaven yonder too,But 'tis so far away - and you are near.Men talk of heaven, - there is no heaven but here;Men talk of hell, - there is no hell but here;Men of hereafters talk, and future lives,O love, there is no other life - but here.”

“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.”

“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.”

“And do you think that unto such as you,A maggot-minded, starved, fanatic crew,God gave the Secret, and denied it me? -Well, well, what matters it! believe that too.”

“Good friends, beware! the only life we knowFlies from us like an arrow from the bow,The caravan of life is moving by,Quick! to your places in the passing show.”