Truth Never Hurt The Teller.

There Is No Truer Truth Obtainable By Man Than Comes Of Music

Such Ever Was Love's Way: To Rise, It Stoops.

That's The Wise Thrush; He Sings Each Song Twice Over, Lest You Should Think He Never Could Recapture The First Fine Careless Rapture!

The Lie Was Dead And Damned, And Truth Stood Up Instead.

And Inasmuch As Feeling, The East's Gift, Is Quick And Transient,- Comes, And Lo! Is Gone, While Northern Thought Is Slow And Durable.