From The Sprinkled Isles, Lily On Lily,

Night Conceals A World But Reveals A Universe.

I Hear You Reproach, "but Delay Was Best, For Their End Was A Crime." Oh, A Crime Will Do As Well, I Reply, To Serve For A Test As A Virtue Golden Through And Through, Sufficient To Vindicate Itself And Prove Its Worth At A Moment's View! . . . . . . Let A Man Contend To The Uttermost For His Life's Set Prize, Be It What It Will! The Counter Our Lovers Staked Was Lost As Surely As If It Were Lawful Coin; And The Sin I Impute To Each Frustrate Ghost Is-the Unlit Lamp And The Ungirt Loin, Though The End In Sight Was A Vice, I Say.

Never Brag, Never Bluster, Never Blush.

Must In Death Your Daylight Finish? My Sun Sets To Rise Again.

Oh, To Be In England Now That April's There, And Whoever Wakes In England Sees, Some Morning, Unaware.