The Man Of Science Is Nothing If

Earth, The Mother Of All, Moves On Her Stedfast Way, Gathering, Flinging, Sowing. Mortals, We Live In Her Day, She In Her Children Is Growing.

Swift Doth Young Love Flee, And We Stand Wakened, Shivering From Our Dream.

Observation Is The Most Enduring Of The Pleasures Of Life.

A Kiss Is But A Kiss Now! And No Wave Of A Great Flood That Whirls Me To The Sea. But, As You Will! We'll Sit Contentedly, And Eat Our Pot Of Honey On The Grave.

Woman's Reason Is In The Milk Of Her Breasts.