God's Rarest Blessing Is, After All, A

Days, When The Ball Of Our Vision Had Eagles That Flew Unabashed To Sun; When The Graps On The Bow Was Decision, And Arrow And Hand And Eye Were One; When The Pleasures, Like Waves To A Swimmer, Came Heaving For Rapture Ahead! - Invoke Them, They Dwindle, They Glimmer As Lights Over Mounds Of The Dead.

Lowly, With A Broken Neck, The Crocus Lays Her Cheek To Mire.

The Man Of Science Is Nothing If Not A Poet Gone Wrong.

Prayer For Worldly Goods Is Worse Than Fruitless, But Prayer For Strength Of Soul Is That Passion Of The Soul Which Catches The Gift It Seeks.

Caricature Is Rough Truth.