Truth - Is As Old As God-.

These Are The Days When Birds Come Back, A Very Few, A Bird Or Two, To Take A Backward Look.

Experiment Has A Stimulus Which Withers Its Fear.

A Wounded Deer Leaps Highest, I've Heard The Hunter Tell; 'tis But The Ecstasy Of Death, And Then The Brake Is Still. The Smitten Rock That Gushes, The Trampled Steel That Springs,, A Cheek Is Always Redder Just Where The Hectic Stings Mirth Is Mail Of Anguish, In Which Its Cautious Arm Lest Anybody Spy The Blood And, You're Hurt Exclaim.

To Make A Prairie It Takes A Clover And One Bee, -

When We Think Of His Lone Effort To Live And Its Bleak Reward, The Mind Turns To The Myth "for His Mercy Endureth Forever," With Confiding Revulsion.