Joy Came Always After Pain.

Joy Came Always After Pain.

Twentieth Pupil Of The Centuries Knows Its Stuff And Bird-changed This Century Like Jesus Climbs The Sky.

Without Poets, Without Artists, Men Would Soon Weary Of Nature's Monotony.

Come To The Edge.' 'we Can't. We're Afraid.' 'come To The Edge.' 'we Can't. We Will Fall!' 'come To The Edge.' And They Came. And He Pushed Them. And They Flew.

Without Artists, The Order Which We Find In Nature, And Which Is Only An Effect Of Art, Would At Once Vanish.