How Very Hard It Is To Be

Be Sure That God Ne'er Dooms To Waste The Strength He Deigns Impart.

Oh, Good Gigantic Smile O' The Brown Old Earth, This Autumn Morning! How He Sets His Bones To Bask I' The Sun, And Thrusts Out Knees And Feet. From The Ripple To Run Over In Its Mirth

Good Strong Thick Stupefying Incense-smoke!

You Should Not Take A Fellow Eight Years Old And Make Him Swear To Never Kiss The Girls.

Make No More Giants, God!but Elevate The Race At Once!