To Discover The Mode Of Life Or

Desire's Wind Blasts The Thorntree But After It Becomes From A Bramblebush To Be A Rose Upon The Rood Of Time.

Old Father, Old Artificer, Stand Me Now And Ever In Good Stead.

His Eyes Were Dimmed With Tears And, Looking Humbly Up To Heaven, He Wept For The Innocence He Had Lost.

Every Age Must Look For Its Sanction To Its Poetry And Philosophy, For In These The Human Mind, As It Looks Backward Or Forward, Attains To An Eternal State.

Her Lips Touched His Brain As They Touched His Lips, As Though They Were A Vehicle Of Some Vague Speech And Between Them He Felt An Unknown And Timid Preasure, Darker Than The Swoon Of Sin, Softer Than Sound Or Odor.