The Experience Of This Sweet Life.

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.

If A Thief Helps A Poor Man Out Of The Spoils Of His Thieving, We Must Not Call That Charity.

At Grief So Deep The Tongue Must Wag In Vain; The Language Of Our Sense And Memory Lacks The Vocabulary Of Such Pain.

Justice Divine Has Weighed: The Doom Is Clear. All Hope Renounce, Ye Lost, Who Enter Here.

Deed Done Is Well Begun.