Many A Poem Is Marred By A

All Are Architects Of Fate, Working In These Walls Of Time; Some With Massive Deeds And Great, Some With Ornaments Of Rhyme.

O Thou Child Of Many Prayers! Life Hath Quicksands, Life Hath Snares! Care And Age Come Unawares!

Only A Look And A Voice; Then Darkness Again And Silence.

Three Silences There Are: The First Of Speech, The Second Of Desire, The Third Of Thought.

Sit In Reverie And Watch The Changing Color Of The Waves That Break Upon The Idle Seashore Of The Mind.