Pan Is Dead! Great Pan Is Dead!

A Good Neighbor Sometimes Cuts Your Morning Up To Mince-meat Of The Very Smallest Talk, Then Helps To Sugar Her Bohea At Night With Your Reputation.

But The Child's Sob Curses Deeper In The Silence Than The Strong Man In His Wrath!

I Love Thee To The Depth And Breadth And Height My Soul Can Reach.

His Ears Were Often The First Thing To Catch My Tears.

O Death, O Beyond, Thou Art Sweet, Thou Art Strange!