Dear, harmless age! the short, swift span Where weeping Virtue parts with man; Where love without lust dwells, and bends What way we please without s… - Henry Vaughan

And yet, as angels in some brighter dreams Call to the soul when man doth sleep, So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes, And into glory peep.

Why should I not love childhood still? Why, if I see a rock or shelf, Shall I from thence cast down myself? Or by complying with the world, From the same precipice be hurled? Those observations are but foul, Which make me wise to lose my soul. <p> And yet the practice worldlings call Business, and weighty action all, Checking the poor child for his play, But gravely cast themselves away.

Holy writing must strive (by all means) for perfection and true holiness, that a door may be opened to him in heaven.