I can’t sleep without knowing there’s hope. Half the night I waste in sighs. In a wakeful doze I sorrow. For the hands, for the lips… the eyes. For the meeting of tomorrow.
Love lieth deep; Love dwells not in lip-depths; Love laps his wings on either side the heart Absorbing all the incense of sweet thoughts, So that they pass not to the shrine of sound.
Ah, when shall all men’s good Be each man’s rule, and universal peace Lie like a shaft of light across the land, And like a lane of beams athwart the sea, Thro’ all the circle of the golden year?
