Pan Is Dead! Great Pan Is Dead!

Do Ye Hear The Children Weeping, O My Brothers?

Free Men Freely Work: Whoever Fears God, Fears To Sit At Ease.

For Poets (bear The Word) Half-poets Even, Are Still Whole Democrats.

World's Use Is Cold, World's Love Is Vain, World's Cruelty Is Bitter Bane; But Is Not The Fruit Of Pain.

If Thou Must Love Me, Let It Be For Naught Except For Love's Sake Only.