I love thee, I love but theeWith a love that shall not dieTill the sun grows cold,And the stars grow old

Till the sun grows cold And the stars are old And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold.

Pardon not wrath is God's best attribute.

The loving are the daring.

Now the frosty stars are gone: I have watched them one by one Fading on the shores of Dawn. Round and full the glorious sun Walks with level step the spray Through his vestibule of Day.