Are There Not, Dear Michael, Two Points

I Trust In Nature For The Stable Laws Of Beauty And Utility. Spring Shall Plant And Autumn Garner To The End Of Time. I Trust In God,-the Right Shall Be The Right And Other Than The Wrong, While He Endures. I Trust In My Own Soul, That Can Perceive The Outward And The Inward,-nature's Good And God's.

Shakespeare Was Of Us, Milton Was Of Us, Burns, Shelley, Were With Us. They Watch From Their Graves!

That's The Wise Thrush; He Sings Each Song Twice Over, Lest You Should Think He Never Could Recapture The First Fine Careless Rapture!

On The Earth The Broken Arcs; In The Heaven A Perfect Round.

Therefore I Summon Age / To Grant Youth's Heritage.