Three Silences There Are: The First Of

In This World A Man Must Either Be Anvil Or Hammer.

We Waste Our Best Years In Distilling The Sweetest Flowers Of Life Into Potions Which, After All, Do Not Immortalize, But Only Intoxicate.

Truths That Startled The Generation In Which They Were First Announced Become In The Next Age The Commonplaces Of Conversation; As The Famous Airs Of Operas Which Thrilled The First Audiences Come To Be Played On Hand-organs In The Streets.

Youth Comes But Once A Life Time. Perhaps, But It Remains Strong In Many For Their Entire Lives.

There In Seclusion And Remote From Men The Wizard Hand Lies Cold, Which At Its Topmost Speed Let Fall The Pen, And Left The Tale Half Told. Ah! Who Shall Lift That Wand Of Magic Power, And The Lost Clew Regain? The Unfinished Window In Aladdin's Tower Unfinished Must Remain!