In Your Patience Ye Are

How Joyously The Young Sea-mew Lay Dreaming On The Waters Blue, Whereon Our Little Bark Had Thrown A Little Shade, The Only One; But Shadows Ever Man Pursue.

We Can't Separate Our Humanity From Our Poetry.

And Yet, Because I Love Thee, I Obtain From That Same Love This Vindicating Grace, To Live On Still In Love, And Yet In Vain

My Patience Has Dreadful Chilblains From Standing So Long On A Monument.

I Begin To Think That None Are So Bold As The Timid, When They Are Fairly Roused.