God Himself Is The Best Poet, And

Pan Is Dead! Great Pan Is Dead! Pan, Pan Is Dead!

And Marlowe, Webster, Fletcher, Ben, Whose Fire-hearts Sowed Our Furrows When The World Was Worthy Of Such Men.

A Child's Kiss Set On Thy Sighing Lips Shall Make Thee Glad; A Poor Man Served By Thee Shall Make Thee Rich; A Sick Man Helped By Thee Shall Make Thee Strong; Thou Shalt Be Served Thyself By Every Sense Of Service Which Thou Renderest.

Love That Endures, From Life That Disappears!

The Least Flower, With Brimming Cup, May Stand And Share Its Dew Drop With Another Near.