Politicians. Little Tin Gods On Wheels.

If A Man Brings A Good Mind To What He Reads He May Become, As It Were, The Spiritual Descendant To Some Extent Of Great Men, And This Link, This Spiritual Hereditary Tie, May Help To Just Kick The Beam In The Right Direction At A Vital Crisis; Or May Keep Him From Drifting Through The Long Slack Times When, So To Speak, We Are Only Fielding And No Balls Are Coming Our Way.

Cities And Thrones And Powers Stand In Time's Eye, Almost As Long As Flowers, Which Daily Die

Of All The Trees That Grow So Fair Old England To Adorn, Greater Are None Beneath The Sun Than Oak, And Ash And Thorn.

As Surely As Water Will Wet Us, As Surely As Fire Will Burn, The Gods Of The Copybook Headings With Terror And Slaughter Return!

We're Poor Little Lambs Who've Lost Our Way, Baa! Baa! Baa! We're Little Black Sheep Who've Gone Astray, Baa-aa-aa! Gentlemen-rankers Out On The Spree, Damned From Here To Eternity, God Ha' Mercy On Such As We, Baa! Yah! Bah!