Crystal Sincerity Hath Found No Shelter But

Give Beauty Back, Beauty, Beauty, Beauty, Back To God, Beauty's Self And Beauty's Giver.

Not, I’ll Not, Carrion Comfort, Despair, Not Feast On Thee; Not Untwist—slack They May Be—these Last Strands Of Man In Me ór, Most Weary, Cry I Can No More. I Can; Can Something, Hope, Wish Day Come, Not Choose Not To Be.

I Consider My Selfbeing ... That Taste Of Myself, Of I And Me Above And In All Things, Which Is More Distinctive Than The Taste Of Ale Or Alum, More Distinctive Than The Smell Of Walnutleaf Or Camphor, And Is Incommunicable By Any Means To Another Man.

All Things Therefore Are Charged With Love, Are Charged With God And If We Knew How To Touch Them Give Off Sparks And Take Fire, Yield Drops And Flow, Ring And Tell Of Him.

Elected Silence, Sing To Me And Beat Upon My Whorlèd Ear, Pipe Me To Pastures Still And Be The Music That I Care To Hear.