The Devil, That Old Stager, Who Leads

All Good Things Are Ours, Nor Soul Helps Flesh More, Now, Than Flesh Helps Soul!

Fail I Alone, In Words And Deeds? Why, All Men Strive And Who Succeeds?

And Let Them Pass, As They Will Too Soon, With The Bean-flowers' Boon, And The Blackbird's Tune, And May, And June!

Twere Too Absurd To Slight For The Hereafter The Todays Delight!

The Great Mind Knows The Power Of Gentleness.