Progress-progress Is The Dirtiest Word In The

Evil Alone Has Oil For Every Wheel.

Euclid Alone Has Looked On Beauty Bare. Let All Who Prate Of Beauty Hold Their Peace, And Lay Them Prone Upon The Earth And Cease To Ponder On Themselves, The While They Stare At Nothing, Intricately Drawn Nowhere In Shapes Of Shifting Lineage; Let Geese Gabble And Hiss, But Heroes Seek Release From Dusty Bondage Into Luminous Air. O Blinding Hour, O Holy, Terrible Day, When First The Shaft Into His Vision Shone Of Light Anatomized! Euclid Alone Has Looked On Beauty Bare. Fortunate They Who, Though Once Only And Then But Far Away, Have Heard Her Massive Sandal Set On Stone.

Soar, Eat Ether, See What Has Never Been Seen; Depart, Be Lost, But Climb.

Cut If You Will With Sleep's Dull Knife, The Years From Off Your Life, My Friend! The Years That Death Takes Off My Life, He'll Take From Off The Other End!

How Strange A Thing Is Death, Bringing To His Knees, Bringing To His Antlers The Buck In The Snow . . . Life, Looking Out Attentive From The Eyes Of The Doe.