To The Eyes Of The

Can I See Another's Woe, And Not Be In Sorrow Too? Can I See Another's Grief, And Not Seek For Kind Relief? Can I See A Falling Tear, And Not Feel My Sorrow's Share? Can A Father See His Child Weep, Nor Be With Sorrow Filled? Can A Mother Sit And Hear An Infant Groan, An Infant Fear? No, No! Never Can It Be! Never, Never Can It Be!

When Nations Grow Old The Arts Grow Cold And Commerce Settles On Every Tree

Art Is The Tree Of Life. Science Is The Tree Of Death.

Lo! Now The Direful Monster, Whose Skin Clings To His Strong Bones, Strides O'er The Groaning Rocks: He Withers All In Silence, And His Hand Unclothes The Earth, And Freezes Up Frail Life.

Let The Men Do Their Duty & The Women Will Be Such Wonders; The Female Life Lives From The Light Of The Male: See A Man's Female Dependants, You Know The Man.