I Do Not Believe Anyone Can Be

A Solid Man Of Boston; A Comfortable Man With Dividends, And The First Salmon And The First Green Peas.

When Christ Ascended Triumphantly From Star To Star He Left The Gates Of Heaven Ajar.

As Great Pythagoras Of Yore, Standing Beside The Blacksmith's Door, And Hearing The Hammers, As They Smote The Anvils With A Different Note, Stole From The Varying Tones, That Hung Vibrant On Every Iron Tongue, The Secret Of The Sounding Wire. And Formed The Seven-chorded Lyre.

When One Is Truly In Love, One Not Only Says It, But Shows It.

I Cannot Believe Any Man Can Be Perfectly Well In Body, Who Has Much Labor Of The Mind To Perform.