What Though My Winged Hours Of Bliss

But Sad As Angels For The Good Man's Sin, Weep To Record, And Blush To Give It In.

A Man Who Will Not Leave His Room Because He Does Not Know How, Or Is Afraid To Open The Door, Is Trapped Just The Same Whether Or Not The Door Is Locked.

Triumphal Arch, That Fill'st The Sky When Storms Prepare To Part, I Ask Not Proud Philosophy To Teach Me What Thou Art.

O Star-eyed Science, Hast Thou Wander'd There, To Waft Us Home The Message Of Despair?

The Soul Of Conversation Is Sympathy