Who Cannot Open An Honest Mind No

Lady, The Sun's Light To Our Eyes Is Dear, And Fair The Tranquil Reaches Of The Sea, And Flowery Earth In May, And Bounding Waters; And So Right Many Fair Things I Might Praise; Yet Nothing Is So Radiant And So Fair As For Souls Childless, With Desire Sore-smitten, To See The Light Of Babes About The House.

Alas, How Right The Ancient Saying Is: We, Who Are Old, Are Nothing Else But Noise And Shape. Like Mimicries Of Dreams We Go, And Have No Wits, Although We Think Us Wise.

Silence Is True Wisdom's Best Reply.

All Men Know Their Children Mean More Than Life. If Childless People Sneer- Well, They've Less Sorrow. But What Lonesome Luck!

Pay Special Attention To Their Agony So I Might Take Some Pleasure.