God Is The Perfect Poet.

Motherhood: All Love Begins And Ends There.

Progress Is The Law Of Life: Man Is Not Man As Yet.

Oh, To Be In England Now That April's There, And Whoever Wakes In England Sees, Some Morning, Unaware.

One Who Never Turned His Back But Marched Breast Forward, Never Doubted Clouds Would Break, Never Dreamed, Though Right Were Worsted, Wrong Would Triumph, Held We Fall To Rise, Are Baffled To Fight Better, Sleep To Wake.

'tis Well Averred, A Scientific Faith's Absurd.