Saw Life Steadily And Saw It Whole.

Grey Time-worn Marbles Hold The Pure Muses. In Their Cool Gallery, By Yellow Tiber, They Still Look Fair.

Below The Surface Stream, Shallow And Light, Of What We Say And Feel Below The Stream, As Light, Of What We Think We Feel, There Flows With Noiseless Current, Strong, Obscure And Deep, The Central Stream Of What We Feel Indeed.

Hither And Thither Spins The Wind-borne Mirroring Soul, A Thousand Glimpses Wins, And Never Sees A Whole.

All The Biblical Miracles Will At Last Disappear With The Progress Of Science.

The Brave, Impetuous Heart Yields Everywhere To The Subtle, Contriving Head.