Every Age, Through Being Beheld Too Close,

Our Euripides The Human, With His Droppings Of Warm Tears, And His Touchings Of Things Common Till They Rose To Meet The Spheres.

Get Leave To Work In This World,--'tis The Best You Get At All.

Yet How Proud We Are, In Daring To Look Down Upon Ourselves!

Foolishness And Criticism Are So Apt, Do So Naturally Go Together!

I Wish I Were The Lily's Leaf To Fade Upon That Bosom Warm, Content To Wither, Pale And Brief, The Trophy Of Thy Paler Form.