It Were Better To Be

What Is Lovely Never Dies, But Passes Into Other Loveliness, Star-dust, Or Sea-foam, Flower Or Winged Air.

We Knew It Would Rain, For The Poplars Showed The White Of Their Leaves, The Amber Grain Shrunk In The Wind,-and The Lightning Now Is Tangled In Tremulous Skeins Of Rain.

The Possession Of Gold Has Ruined Fewer Men Than The Lack Of It. What Noble Enterprises Have Been Checked And What Fine Souls Have Been Blighted In The Gloom Of Poverty The World Will Never Know.

Civilization Is The Lamb's Skin In Which Barbarism Masquerades.

My Mind Lets Go A Thousand Things, Like Dates Of Wars And Deaths Of Kings