Love is the last relay and ultimate outposts of eternity.
The worst moment for the atheist is when he is really thankful and has nobody to thank
I have been here before./ But when or how I cannot tell:/ I know the grass beyond the door,/ The sweet keen smell,/ The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.
A sonnet is a moment's monument, -/ Memorial from the Soul's eternity/ To one dead deathless hour.
Conception, my boy, fundamental brain work, is what makes all the difference in art.
From the fix'd place of Heaven she saw Time like a pulse shake fierce Through all the worlds. Her gaze still strove Within the gulf to pierce Its path; and now she spoke as when The stars sang in their spheres.
When all desire at last and all regret Go hand in hand to death, and all is vain, What shall assuage the unforgotten pain And teach the unforgetful to forget?
If the light is It is because God said 'Let there be light.
And Love, our light at night and shade at noon, Lulls us to rest with songs, and turns away All shafts of shelterless tumultuous day.
Around her, lovers, newly met 'Mid deathless love's acclaims, Spoke evermore among themselves Their heart-remember'd names; And the souls mounting up to God Went by her like thin flames.
Beauty like hers is genius.
If God in his wisdom have brought close The day when I must die, That day by water or fire or air My feet shall fall in the destined snare Wherever my road may lie.
Was it a friend or foe that spread these lies? Nay, who but infants question in such wise, 'T was one of my most intimate enemies.
Gather a shell from the strewn beach And listen at its lips: they sigh The same desire and mystery, The echo of the whole sea's speech.
We two will lie i' the shadow of That living mystic tree Within whose secret growth the Dove Is sometimes felt to be, While every leaf that His plumes touch Saith His Name audibly.
Now while we speak, the sun speeds forth: can I Or thou assure him of his goal? God's breath Even at this moment haply quickeneth The air to a flame; till spirits, always nigh Though screen'd and hid, shall walk the daylight here.
Look in my face; my name is Might-have-been; I am also called No-more, Too-late, Farewell.