I Cannot Help Thinking That The Menace

Sleep Hath Its Own World, And The Wide Realm Of Wild Reality.

Physicians Mend Or End Us, Secundum Artem; But Although We Sneer - In Health - When Ill We Call Them To Attend Us, Without The Least Propensity To Jeer

No Hand Can Make The Clock Strike For Me The Hours That Are Passed.

But 'midst The Crowd, The Hum, The Shock Of Men, To Hear, To See, To Feel, And To Possess, And Roam Along, The World's Tired Denizen, With None Who Bless Us, None Whom We Can Bless.

Christians Have Burnt Each Other, Quite Persuaded. That All The Apostles Would Have Done As They Did.