The Wrath Of The Lion Is The

I Turn My Eyes To The Schools & Universities Of Europe And There Behold The Loom Of Locke Whose Woof Rages Dire, Washed By The Water-wheels Of Newton. Black The Cloth In Heavy Wreaths Folds Over Every Nation; Cruel Works Of Many Wheels I View, Wheel Without Wheel, With Cogs Tyrannic Moving By Compulsion Each Other: Not As Those In Eden, Which Wheel Within Wheel In Freedom Revolve, In Harmony & Peace.

Grown Old In Love From Seven Till Seven Times Seven,i Oft Have Wished For Hell For Ease From Heaven.

Kill Not The Moth Nor Butterfly, For The Last Judgement Draweth Nigh.

The Man Who Never Alters His Opinions Is Like Standing Water, And Breeds Reptiles Of The Mind.

Nature Has No Outline. Imagination Has.