Standing, With Reluctant Feet, Where The Brook

Take This Sorrow To Thy Heart And Make It Part Of Thee, And It Shall Nourish Thee Till Thou Art Strong Again.

There Is Nothing Perfectly Secure But Poverty.

Ah, Nothing Is Too Late, Till The Tired Heart Shall Cease To Palpitate.

That Was The First Sound In The Song Of Love! Scarce More Than Silence Is, And Yet A Sound. Hands Of Invisible Spirits Touch The Strings Of That Mysterious Instrument, The Soul, And Play The Prelude Of Our Fate. We Hear The Voice Prophetic, And Are Not Alone.

The Prayer Of Ajax Was For Light.