Pan Is Dead! Great Pan Is Dead!

So Mothers Have God's License To Be Missed.

Men Of Science, Osteologists And Surgeons, Beat Some Poets, In Respect For Nature,-count Nought Common Or Unclean, Spend Raptures Upon Perfect Specimens Of Indurated Veins, Distorted Joints, Or Beautiful New Cases Of Curved Spine; While We, We Are Shocked At Nature's Falling Off, We Dare To Shrink Back From Her Warts And Blains.

The Man, Most Man, Works Best For Men: And, If Most Man Indeed, He Gets His Manhood Plainest From His Soul.

Will That Light Come Again, As Now These Tears Come...falling Hot And Real!

And There My Little Doves Did Sit With Feathers Softly Brown And Glittering Eyes That Showed Their Right To General Nature's Deep Delight.