The Heart Of A Man

We Have Learned To Whittle The Eden Tree To The Shape Of A Surplice Peg, We Have Learned To Bottle Our Parents Twain In The Yelk Of An Addled Egg. We Know That The Tail Must Wag The Dog, For The Horse Is Drawn By The Cart, But The Devil Whoops, As He Whooped Of Old; It's Clever, But Is It Art?

If You Hit A Pony Over The Nose At The Outset Of Your Acquaintance, He May Not Love You But He Will Take A Deep Interest In Your Movements Ever Afterwards

Youth Had Been A Habit Of Hers For So Long That She Could Not Part With It.

It Was The Forty-fathom Slumber That Clears The Soul And Eye And Heart, And Sends You To Breakfast Ravening. They Emptied A Big Tin Dish Of Juicy Fragments Of Fish- The Blood-ends The Cook Had Collected Overnight. They Cleaned Up The Plates And Pans Of The Elder Mess, Who Were Out Fishing, Sliced Pork For The Midday Meal, Swabbed Down The Foc'sle, Filled The Lamps, Drew Coal And Water For The Cook, An Investigated The Fore-hold, Where The Boat's Stores Were Stacked. It Was Another Perfect Day - Soft, Mild And Clear; And Harvey Breathed To The Very Bottom Of His Lungs.

When Young Lips Have Drunk Deep Of The Bitter Waters Of Hate, Suspicion And Despair, All The Love In The World Will Not Wholly Take Away That Knowledge. Though It May Turn Darkened Eyes For A While To The Light, And Teach Faith Where No Faith Was.