
For death, Now I know, is that first breath Which our souls draw when we enter Life, which is of all life center.

Within yourself deliverance must be searched for, because each man makes his own prison.

Yet who shall shut out Fate?

Sweetest smile is made saddest tear-drop!

Pity and need Make all flesh kin. There in no caste in blood.

What good I see humbly I seek to do, And live obedient to the law, in trust That what will come, and must come, shall come well.

Pity makes the world soft to the weak and noble to the strong.

Early violets blue and white Dying for their love of light.

The royal kingcup bold Dares not don his coat of gold.

Like threads of silver seen through crystal beads Let love through good deeds show.

Don't poets know it
Better than others?
God can't be always everywhere: and, so,
Invented Mothers