Drive Your Cart And Plow Over The

And We Are Put On Earth A Little Space, That We May Learn To Bear The Beams Of Love.

I Turn My Eyes To The Schools & Universities Of Europe And There Behold The Loom Of Locke Whose Woof Rages Dire, Washed By The Water-wheels Of Newton. Black The Cloth In Heavy Wreaths Folds Over Every Nation; Cruel Works Of Many Wheels I View, Wheel Without Wheel, With Cogs Tyrannic Moving By Compulsion Each Other: Not As Those In Eden, Which Wheel Within Wheel In Freedom Revolve, In Harmony & Peace.

You Throw The Sand Against The Wind And The Wind Blows It Back Again.

Imagination Is The Real And Eternal World Of Which This Vegetable Universe Is But A Faint Shadow.

Can I See Another's Woe, And Not Be In Sorrow Too? Can I See Another's Grief, And Not Seek For Kind Relief?