But If, As Morning Rises,

Love Can Move The Sun And The Stars.

Like The Lark That Soars In The Air, First Singing, Then Silent, Content With The Last Sweetness That Satiates It, Such Seemed To Me That Image, The Imprint Of The Eternal Pleasure.

To Run Over Better Waters The Little Vessel Of My Genius Now Hoists Her Sails, As She Leaves Behind Her A Sea So Cruel.

I Wept Not — So To Stone I Grew Within.

Eternal Love Made Me.