Much of our Christianity is not of a sufficiently enlarged type to…

Oh, her heart’s adrift with one On an endless voyage gone! Night and morning Hannah’s at the window binding shoes.

Earth is suffused, inhabited by heaven.

This is a haunted world. It hath no breeze But is the echo of some voice beloved

These blossoms, gathered in familiar paths, With dear companions now passed out of sight, Shall not be laid upon their graves. They live, Since love is deathless. Pleasure now nor pride Is theirs in mortal wise, but hallowing thoughts Will …

All things are beautiful Because of something lovelier than themselves, Which breathes within them, and will never die.

I do not own an inch of land, But all I see is mine, — The orchard and the mowing fields, The lawns and gardens fine.