Progress Is The Law Of Life: Man

Let Friend Trust Friends, And Love Demand Love's Like.

All June I Bound The Rose In Sheaves, Now, Rose By Rose, I Strip The Leaves.

Hatred And Cark And Care, What Place Have They / In Yon Blue Liberality Of Heaven?.

How Well I Know What I Mean To Do When The Long Dark Autumn Evenings Come, And Where, My Soul, Is Thy Pleasant Hue? With The Music Of All Thy Voices, Dumb In Life’s November Too! I Shall Be Found By The Fire, Suppose, O’er A Great Wise Book As Beseemeth Age, While The Shutters Flap As The Cross-wind Blows, And I Turn The Page, And I Turn The Page, Not Verse Now, Only Prose!

All Service Is The Same With God.