No Thought Which Ever Stirred A Human

The Sad Rhyme Of The Men Who Proudly Clung To Their First Fault, And Withered In Their Pride.

I Want To Know A Butcher Paints, A Baker Rhymes For His Pursuit, Candlestick-maker Much Acquaints His Soul With Song, Or, Haply Mute, Blows Out His Brains Upon The Flute.

Things Are Where Things Are, And, As Fate Has Willed, So Shall They Be Fulfilled.

There's A New Tribunal Now Higher Than God's -the Educated Man's!

Rejoice That Man Is Hurled, From Change To Change Unceasingly, His Soul's Wings Never Furled!