He Prayeth Best Who Loveth

He Prayeth Best Who Loveth Best.

The Sun's Rim Dips; The Stars Rush Out: At One Stride Comes The Dark; With Far-heard Whisper O'er The Sea, Off Shot The Spectre-bark.

Joy Rises In Me, Like A Summer's Morn.

God! Sing, Ye Meadow-streams, With Gladsome Voice! Ye Pine-groves, With Your Soft And Soul-like Sounds! And They Too Have A Voice, You Piles Of Snow, And In Their Perilous Fall Shall Thunder, God!

Acquaintance Many, And Conquaintance Few, But For Inquaintance I Know Only Two - The Friend I've Wept And The Maid I Woo.