The Oracles Are Dumb, No Voice Or

Her Silent Course Advance With Inoffensive Pace, That Spinning Sleeps On Her Soft Axle.

Death Ready Stands To Interpose His Dart.

The Tree Of Knowledge Grew Fast By, Knowledge Of Good Bought Dear By Knowing Ill.

A Thousand Fantasies Begin To Throng Into My Memory, Of Calling Shapes, And Beckoning Shadows Dire, And Airy Tongues That Syllable Men's Names On Sands And Shores And Desert Wildernesses

Gratitude Bestows Reverence, Allowing Us To Encounter Everyday Epiphanies.