Let Opening Roses Knotted Oaks Adorn, And

A Little Learning Is A Dangerous Thing; Drink Deep, Or Taste Not The Pierian Spring.

When To The Permanent Is Sacrificed The Mutable, The Prize Is Thine: The Drop Returneth Whence It Came. The Open Path Leads To The Changeless Change - Non-being, The Glorious State Of Absoluteness, The Bliss Past Human Thought.

On Her White Breast A Sparkling Cross She Wore, Which Jews Might Kiss And Infidels Adore.

And Hence One Master-passion In The Breast, Like Aaron's Serpent, Swallows Up The Rest.

Not To Go Back Is Somewhat To Advance, And Men Must Walk, At Least, Before They Dance.