I Knew The Mass Of Men Conceal'd

Sanity -- That Is The Great Virtue Of The Ancient Literature; The Want Of That Is The Great Defect Of The Modern, In Spite Of Its Variety And Power.

Let The Long Contention Cease! / Geese Are Swans, And Swans Are Geese.

One Thing Only Has Been Lent To Youth And Age In Common--discontent.

Most Men Eddy About Here And There-eat And Drink, Chatter And Love And Hate, Gather And Squander, Are Raised Aloft, Are Hurled In The Dust, Striving Blindly, Achieving Nothing; And Then They Die- Perish;-and No One Asks Who Or What They Have Been.

But Often, In The World’s Most Crowded Streets, But Often, In The Din Of Strife, There Rises An Unspeakable Desire After The Knowledge Of Our Buried Life; A Thirst To Spend Our Fire And Restless Force In Tracking Out Our True, Original Course; A Longing To Inquire Into The Mystery Of This Heart Which Beats So Wild, So Deep In Us—to Know Whence Our Lives Come And Where They Go.