Love's Mysteries In Souls Do Grow, But

It Is Too Little To Call Man A Little World; Except God, Man Is A Diminutive To Nothing.

Since You Would Save None Of Me, I Bury Some Of You.

'tis The Year's Midnight, And It Is The Day's.

And Dare Love That, And Say So Too, And Forget The He And She.

Oft From New Truths, And New Phrase, New Doubts Grow, As Strange Attire Aliens The Men We Know.