My Sun Sets To Raise

God Only, Who Made Us Rich, Can Make Us Poor.

Think, In Mounting Higher, The Angels Would Press On Us, And Aspire To Drop Some Golden Orb Of Perfect Song Into Our Deep, Dear Silence.

Two Human Loves Make One Divine.

He Lives Most Life Whoever Breathes Most Air.

The Little Cares That Fretted Me, I Lost Them Yesterday Among The Fields Above The Sea, Among The Winds At Play.