Pan Is Dead! Great Pan Is Dead!

Sing, Seraph With The Glory! Heaven Is High. Sing, Poet With The Sorrow! Earth Is Low. The Universe's Inward Voices Cry "amen" To Either Song Of Joy And Woe. Sing, Seraph, Poet! Sing On Equally!

A Woman's Always Younger Than A Man At Equal Years.

May The Good God Pardon All Good Men.

There's Nothing Great Nor Small, Has Said A Poet Of Our Day, Whose Voice Will Ring Beyond The Curfew Of Eve And Not Be Thrown Out By The Matin's Bell.

But So Fair, She Takes The Breath Of Men Away Who Gaze Upon Her Unaware.