Who Rises From Prayer A Better Man,

O Have A Care Of Natures That Are Mute!

When I Was Quite A Boy I Had A Spasm Of Religion Which Lasted Six Weeks... But I Never Since Have Swallowed The Christian Fable.

Sunrays, Leaning On Our Southern Hills And Lighting Wild Cloud-mountains That Drag The Hills Along, Oft Ends The Day Of Your Shifting Brilliant Laughter Chill As A Dull Face Frowning On A Song. Ay, But Shows The South-west A Ripple-feathered Bosom Blown To Silver While The Clouds Are Shaken And Ascend Scaling The Mid-heavens As They Stream, There Comes A Sunset Rich, Deep Like Love In Beauty Without End.

Caricature Is Rough Truth.

The Debts We Owe Ourselves Are The Hardest To Pay.