Yes, I Answered You Last Night; No,

Light Tomorrow With Today!

With Stammering Lips And Insufficient Sound I Strive And Struggle To Deliver Right The Music Of My Nature.

Thank God For Grace, Ye Who Weep Only! If, As Some Have Done, Ye Grope Tear-blinded In A Desert Place And Touch But Tombs,--look Up! Those Tears Will Run Soon In Long Rivers Down The Lifted Face, And Leave The Vision Clear For Stars And Sun.

Nosegays! Leave Them For The Waking, Throw Them Earthward Where They Grew Dim Are Such, Beside The Breaking Amaranths He Looks Unto. Folded Eyes See Brighter Colors Than The Open Ever Do.

Pan Is Dead! Great Pan Is Dead! Pan, Pan Is Dead!