The Heads Of Strong Old Age Are

Humanity Is The Start Of The Race; I Say Humanity Is The Mould To Break Away From, The Crust To Break Through, The Coal To Break Into Fire, The Atom To Be Split.

The World's In A Bad Way, My Man, And Bound To Be Worse Before It Mends; Better Lie Up In The Mountain Here Four Or Five Centuries, While The Stars Go Over The Lonely Ocean.

A Little Too Abstract, A Little Too Wise, It Is Time For Us To Kiss The Earth Again, It Is Time To Let The Leaves Rain From The Skies, Let The Rich Life Run To The Roots Again.

You Making Haste On Decay: Not Blameworthy; Life Is Good, Be It Stubbornly Long Or Suddenly A Mortal Splendor: Meteors Are Not Needed Less Than Mountains: Shine, Perishing Republic.

They Import And They Consume Reality.