The home of Mary?

I will now describe a scene here just as morning breaks.

A little child, sleeping on a silken couch, awakes from dreams of play and looks towards the sun as it rises yonder. Then, the deeper pink of an aura radiance in which the soul of the child blends with the increasing light of day. As notes when timed give the quartette harmony of mind, these all together sing the praises of the newborn day. The child is very young and tender, eyes wide open to receive knowledge as it flows in, irresistible as the ocean. He is a babe in wisdom, but as daylight here deepens to the pale rose twilight, inspiration kindles the pent-up flames.

The child and the day and the light, and the desire to be kissed by God are the things one must live in to realise that beauty, wisdom and childhood are the golden rungs in the ladder, which angels climb to come to the home of Mary. Which Mary? All the Marys who know Jesus.

—Shelley in Spirit