Content.
Were all the heavens an overladen bough
Of ripened benediction lowered above me,
What could I crave, soul-satisfied as now,
That thou dost love me?
The door is shut. To each unsheltered blessing
Henceforth I say, “Depart! What wouldst thou of me?”
Beggared I am of want, this boon possessing,
That thou dost love me.
“Photographed” may well make the trio in the more fully illustrating his genius:—