Yet Some There Be That By Due

Hail, Wedded Love, Mysterious Law; True Source Of Human Happiness.

I Was All Ear, And Took In Strains That Might Create A Soul Under The Ribs Of Death.

Methought I Saw My Late Espoused Saint.

They Who Have Put Out The People's Eyes Reproach Them Of Their Blindness.

The Earth, Though In Comparison Of Heaven So Small, Nor Glistering, May Of Solid Good Contain More Plenty Than The Sun, That Barren Shines.