Hope . . . Never

My River Runs To Thee: Blue Sea, Wilt Welcome Me? My River Waits Reply. Oh Sea, Look Graciously! I ’ll Fetch Thee Brooks From Spotted Nooks,— Say, Sea, Take Me!

For Each Ecstatic Instant We Must An Anguish Pay In Keen And Quivering Ratio To The Ecstasy.

Unable Are The Loved To Die For Love Is Immortality, Nay, It Is Deity - Unable They That Love - To Die For Love Reforms Vitality Into Divinity.

Grant Me, O Lord, A Sunny Mind-thy Windy Will To Bear!

The Will Is Always Near, Dear, Though The Feet Vary.