Humankind Cannot Stand Reality.

Till Human Voices Wake Us, And We Drown.

Where There Is No Temple There Shall Be No Homes.

After Such Knowledge, What Forgiveness? Think Now History Has Many Cunning Passages, Contrived Corridors And Issues, Deceives With Whispering Ambitions Guides Us By Vanities.

The Winter Evening Settles Down With Smell Of Steaks In Passageways. Six O'clock. The Burnt-out Ends Of Smoky Days. And Now A Gusty Shower Wraps The Grimy Scraps Of Withered Leaves About Your Feet And Newspapers From Vacant Lots; The Showers Beat On Broken Blinds And Chimney-pots, And At The Corner Of The Street A Lonely Cab-horse Steams And Stamps. And Then The Lighting Of The Lamps.

Here Between The Hither And The Farther Shore While Time Is Withdrawn, Consider The Future And The Past With An Equal Mind.