My bare thought, whetted as a sword, cut sheer Through time and life and flesh and death, to clear My way unto Nirvana. (Sidney Lanier, "")
Your Life shall bend and o'er his shuttle toil, A weaver weaving at the loom of grief. (Sidney Lanier, "")
So Night takes toll of Wisdom as of Sin. (Sidney Lanier, "")
So hath Trade withered up Love's sinewy prime, Men love not women as in olden time. (Sidney Lanier, "")
Yea, it forgives me all my sins, Fits life to love like rhyme to rhyme, And tunes the task each day begins By the last trumpet-note of Time. (Sidney Lanier, "")