Though Rome's Gross Yoke Drops Off, No

Where The Apple Reddens Never Pry - Lest We Lose Our Edens, Eve And I.

My Business Is Not To Remake Myself, But To Make The Absolute Best Of What God Made.

For Sudden The Worst Turns The Best To The Brave, The Black Minute's At End, And The Elements' Rage, The Fiend Voices That Rave, Shall Dwindle, Shall Blend, Shall Change, Shall Become First A Peace Out Of Pain, Then A Light, Then Thy Breast, O Thou Soul Of My Soul! I Shall Clasp Thee Again, And With God Be The Rest!

The Common Problem, Yours, Mine, Everyone's Is ? Not To Fancy What Were Fair In Life Provided It Could Be ? But, Finding First What May Be, Then Find How To Make It Fair Up To Our Means.

Stung By The Splendour Of A Sudden Thought.