Fate's Arrow, When Expected, Travels Slow.

Here My Powers Rest From Their High Fantasy, But Already I Could Feel My Being Turned- Instinct And Intellect Balanced Equally. As In A Wheel Whose Motion Nothing Jars- By The Love That Moves The Sun And The Other Stars.

Thou Shall Know By Experience How Salt The Savor Is Of Others' Bread, And How Sad A Path It Is To Climb And Descend Another's Stairs.

What Shall One Do With The Verse, If He Knows Not That?

The Infernal Storm, Eternal In Its Rage, Sweeps And Drives The Spirits With Its Blast; It Whirls Them, Lashing Them With Punishment. When They Are Swept Back Past Their Place Of Judgment Then Come The Shrieks, Laments, And Anguished Cries; There They Blaspheme God's Almighty Power.

No Sorrow Is Deeper Than The Remembrance Of Happiness When In Misery.