So With This Earthly Paradise It Is,

My Work Is The Embodiment Of Dreams In One Form Or Another.

Whiles In The Early Winter Eve We Pass Amid The Gathering Night Some Homestead That We Had To Leave Years Past; And See Its Candles Bright Shine In The Room Beside The Door Where We Were Merry Years Agone But Now Must Never Enter More, As Still The Dark Road Drives Us On. E'en So The World Of Men May Turn At Even Of Some Hurried Day And See The Ancient Glimmer Burn Across The Waste That Hath No Way; Then With That Faint Light In Its Eyes A While I Bid It Linger Near And Nurse In Wavering Memories The Bitter-sweet Of Days That Were.

The Past Is Not Dead, It Is Living In Us, And Will Be Alive In The Future Which We Are Now Helping To Make.

Death Have We Hated, Knowing Not What It Meant; Life We Have Loved, Through Green Leaf And Through Sere, Though Still The Less We Knew Of Its Intent.

So With This Earthly Paradise It Is, If Ye Will Read Aright, And Pardon Me, Who Strive To Build A Shadowy Isle Of Bliss Midmost The Beating Of The Steely Sea.