The Well Of True Wit Is Truth

There Is Nothing The Body Suffers Which The Soul May Not Profit By.

Cultivated Men And Women Who Do Not Skim The Cream Of Life, And Are Attached To The Duties, Yet Escape The Harsher Blows, Make Acute And Balanced Observers.

Earth, The Mother Of All, Moves On Her Stedfast Way, Gathering, Flinging, Sowing. Mortals, We Live In Her Day, She In Her Children Is Growing.

Behold The Life At Ease; It Drifts, The Sharpened Life Commands Its Course.

Darker Grows The Valley, More And More Forgetting: So Were It With Me If Forgetting Could Be Willed. Tell The Grassy Hollow That Holds The Bubbling Well-spring, Tell It To Forget The Source That Keeps It Filled.