Who but a God Could draw from light and moisture, heat and cold, And fashion in earth’s mould, A multitude of blooms to deck one sod? - Ella Wheeler Wilcox

To know for an hour you were mine completely — Mine in body and soul, my own — I would bear unending tortures sweetly,
With not a murmur and not a moan.
A lighter sin or a lesser error
Might change through hope or fear divine;
But there is no fear, and hell has no terror,
To change or alter a love like mine.

Feast, and your halls are crowded
Fast, and the world goes by
Succeed and give, and it helps you live
But no man can help you die

The world has a thousand creeds, and never a one have I;
Nor a church of my own, though a million spires are pointing the way on high.
But I float on the bosom of faith, that bears me along like a river;
And the lamp of my soul is alight with love, for life, and the world, and the Giver.