Men Are Not Angels, Neither Are They

Lost, Lost! One Moment Knelled The Woe Of Years.

O World, As God Has Made It! All Is Beauty.

And Inasmuch As Feeling, The East's Gift, Is Quick And Transient,- Comes, And Lo! Is Gone, While Northern Thought Is Slow And Durable.

The Best Way To Excape His Ire Is, Not To Seem Too Happy.

For Thence A Paradox Which Comforts While It Mocks, - Shall Life Succeed In That It Seems To Fail: What I Aspired To Be, And Was Not, Comforts Me: A Brute I Might Have Been, But Would Not Sink I' The Scale.