All I Ask Is A Tall Ship

State Are Not Made, Nor Patched; They Grow; Grow Slow Through Centuries Of Pain, And Grow Correctly In The Main; But Only Grow By Certain Laws, Of Certain Bits In Certain Jaws.

His Face Was Filled With Broken Commandments.

Life's Battle Is A Conquest For The Strong; The Meaning Shows In The Defeated Thing.

To Most Of Us The Future Seems Unsure. But Then It Always Has Been; And We Who Have Seen Great Changes Must Have Great Hopes.

On The Long Dusty Ribbon Of The Long City Street, The Pageant Of Life Is Passing Me On Multitudinous Feet, With A Word Here Of The Hills, And A Song There Of The Sea And-the Great Movement Changes-the Pageant Passes Me.