To Create A Little Flower Is The

Silent As Despairing Love, And Strong As Jealousy.

I Turn My Eyes To The Schools & Universities Of Europe And There Behold The Loom Of Locke Whose Woof Rages Dire, Washed By The Water-wheels Of Newton. Black The Cloth In Heavy Wreaths Folds Over Every Nation; Cruel Works Of Many Wheels I View, Wheel Without Wheel, With Cogs Tyrannic Moving By Compulsion Each Other: Not As Those In Eden, Which Wheel Within Wheel In Freedom Revolve, In Harmony & Peace.

O Why Was I Born With A Different Face? Why Was I Not Born Like The Rest Of My Race?

All Pictures That's Painted With Sense And With Thought / Are Painted By Madmen As Sure As A Groat; / For The Greater The Fool In The Pencil More Blest, / And When They Are Drunk They Always Paint Best.

Art Can Never Exist Without Naked Beauty Displayed.