Till The Master Of All Good Workmen

We Have Done With Hope And Honour. We Are Lost To Love And Truth, We Are Dropping Down The Ladder Rung By Rung; And The Measure Of Our Torment Is The Measure Of Our Youth. God Help Us, For We Knew The Worst Too Young!

Delight In The Little Things.

She Is Intensely Human, And Lives To Look Upon Life.

The Beasts Are Very Wise, Their Mouths Are Clean Of Lies, They Talk One To The Other, Bullock To Bullock Brothers Resting After Their Labors, Each In Stall With His Neighbors, But Man With Goad And Whip, Breaks Up Their Fellowship, Shouts In Their Silky Ears Filling Their Soul With Fears. When He Has Plowed The Land, He Says: "they Understand." But The Beasts In Stall Together, Freed From The Yoke And Tether, Say As The Torn Flank Smoke: "nay, 'twas The Whip That Spoke."

Keep Your Head When All About You Are Losing Theirs And Blaming It On You.