Tis Strange,-but True; For Truth Is Always

Glory, Like The Phoenix 'midst Her Fires, Exhales Her Odours, Blazes, And Expires.

Land Of Lost Gods And Godlike Men.

To Chase The Glowing Hours With Flying Feet.

There Is Pleasure In The Pathless Woods, There Is Rapture In The Lonely Shore, There Is Society Where None Intrudes, By The Deep Sea, And Music In Its Roar; I Love Not Man The Less, But Nature More.

I Speak Not Of Men's Creeds—they Rest Between Man And His Maker.