Each Philosopher, Each Bard, Each Actor Has

God Has Delegated Himself To A Million Deputies.

A Man's Library Is A Sort Of Harem.

Though Love Repine, And Reason Chafe, There Came A Voice Without Reply,- "'tis Man's Perdition To Be Safe, When For The Truth He Ought To Die."

Teach That God Is, Not Was; That He Speaketh, Not Spake.

Little Thinks, In The Field, Yon Red-cloaked Clown, Of Thee, From The Hill-top Looking Down; And The Heifer, That Lows In The Upland Farm, Far-heard, Lows Not Thine Ear To Charm; The Sexton Tolling The Bell At Noon, Dreams Not That Great Napoleon Sto