Unthought-of Frailties Cheat Us In The Wise.

Wine Works The Heart Up, Wakes The Wit, There Is No Cure 'gainst Age But It

How Instinct Varies In The Grov'ling Swine.

When To The Permanent Is Sacrificed The Mutable, The Prize Is Thine: The Drop Returneth Whence It Came. The Open Path Leads To The Changeless Change - Non-being, The Glorious State Of Absoluteness, The Bliss Past Human Thought.

Who Shall Decide When Doctors Disagree, And Soundest Casuists Doubt, Like You And Me?

Expression Is The Dress Of Thought, And Still Appears More Decent As More Suitable; A Vile Conceit In Pompous Words Express'd, Is Like A Clown In Regal Purple Dress'd.