The same words conceal and declare the thoughts of men.

Oh that it were possible, After long grief and pain, To find the arms of my true love, Around me once again

Mastering the lawless science of our law,- that codeless myriad of precedent, that wilderness of single instances.

Science grows and Beauty dwindles.

That which we are, we are.

Are God and Nature then at strife, That Nature lends such evil dreams? So careful of the type she seems, So careless of the single life; ... 'So careful of the type', but no. From scarped cliff and quarried stone She cries, 'A thousand types are gone: I care for nothing, all shall go' ... Man, her last work, who seemed so fair, Such splendid purpose in his eyes, Who rolled the psalm to wintry skies, Who built him fanes of fruitless prayer, Who trusted God was love indeed And love Creation's final law- Tho' Nature red in tooth and claw With ravine, shrieked against his creed.

As the husband is the wife is; thou art mated with a clown, As the grossness of his nature will have weight to drag thee down.