"Thou art my single day, God lends to leaven What were all earth else, with a feel of heaven." — Robert Browning

I trust in nature for the stable laws of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant and autumn garner to the end of time.

But how carve way i' the life that lies before, If bent on groaning ever for the past?

Only I discern Infinite passion, and the pain Of finite hearts that yearn.

God's justice, tardy though it prove perchance, Rests never on the track until it reach Delinquency.