26. Bl. C. L. N. A. B. I. J.

27.

That pearl is from a mine unknown to thee,
That ruby bears a stamp thou canst not see
The tale of love some other tongue must tell,
All our conjectures are mere phantasy.

27. Meaning, real love of God differs from the popular idea of it. Bl.

28.

Now with its joyful prime my age is rife,
I quaff enchanting wine, and list to fife;
Chide not at wine for all its bitter taste,
Its bitterness sorts well with human life!

28. Bl. C. L. N. A. B. I. J.

29.

O soul! whose lot it is to bleed with pain,
And daily change of fortune to sustain,
Into this body wherefore didst thou come,
Seeing thou must at last go forth again?