I Have Drunken Deep Of Joy, And

The Crime Of Inquiry Is One Which Religion Never Has Forgiven.

Love's Pestilence, And Her Slow Dogs Of War.

Commerce Has Set The Mark Of Selfishness, The Signet Of Its All-enslaving Power, Upon A Shining Ore, And Called It Gold: Before Whose Image Bow The Vulgar Great, The Vainly Rich, The Miserable Proud, The Mob Of Peasants, Nobles, Priests, And Kings, And With Blind Feelings Reverence The Power That Grinds Them To The Dust Of Misery.

There Is No Real Wealth But The Labour Of Man.

A God Made By Man Undoubtedly Has Need Of Man To Make Himself Known To Man.