My Altars Are The Mountains And The

So Bright The Tear In Beauty's Eye, Love Half Regrets To Kiss It Dry.

Then Stirs The Feeling Infinite, So Felt In Solitude, Where We Are Least Alone.

The Poetry Of Speech.

The Truly Brave Are Soft Of Heart And Eyes, And Feel For What Their Duty Bids Them Do.

I Am Always Most Religious Upon A Sunshiny Day.