I Lock My Door Upon

For I Am Bound With Fleshly Bands, Joy, Beauty, Lie Beyond My Scope; I Strain My Heart, I Stretch My Hands, And Catch At Hope.

The Loves That Meet In Paradise Shall Cast Out Fear, And Paradise Hath Room For You And Me And All.

The Violets Whisper From The Shade Which Their Own Leaves Have Made: Men Scent Our Fragrance On The Air, Yet Take No Heed Of Humble Lessons We Would Read.

To Her Whose Heart Is My Heart's Quiet Home, To My First Love, My Mother, On Whose Knee I Learnt Love-lore That Is Not Troublesome.

Let Bygones Be Bygones.