Children Of Men! The Unseen Power, Whose

For Science, God Is Simply The Stream Of Tendency By Which All Things Seek To Fulfill The Law Of Their Being.

Come, Dear Children, Let Us Away; Down And Away Below!

But Thou, My Son, Study To Make Prevail One Colour In Thy Life, The Hue Of Truth.

The "hairy Quadruped Furnished With A Tail And, Pointed Ears, Probably Arboreal In His Habits," This Good Fellow Carried Hidden In His Nature, Apparently, Something Destined To Develop Into A Necessity For Humane Letters.

Most Men In A Brazen Prison Live, Where, In The Sun's Hot Eye, With Heads Bent O'er Their Toil, They Languidly Their Lives To Some Unmeaning Taskwork Give, Dreaming Of Nought Beyond Their Prison-wall.