Who Hears Music Feels His

Rejoice That Man Is Hurled, From Change To Change Unceasingly, His Soul's Wings Never Furled!

In The First Is The Last, In Thy Will Is My Power To Believe.

All Service Is The Same With God.

Each Life Unfulfilled, You See; It Hangs Still, Patchy And Scrappy: We Have Not Sighed Deep, Laughed Free, Starved, Feasted, Despaired,—been Happy.

Ah, But A Man's Reach Should Exceed His Grasp, Or What's A Heaven For?