Wonder Is Not Precisely Knowing.

Endow The Living - With The Tears - You Squander On The Dead.

Not 'revelation'-'tis That Waits/ But Our Unfurnished Eyes

Experiment Has A Stimulus Which Withers Its Fear.

For Each Ecstatic Instant We Must An Anguish Pay In Keen And Quivering Ratio To The Ecstasy.

Sweet Skepticism Of The Heart That Knows And Does Not Know And Tosses Like A Fleet Of Balm Affronted By The Snow.