Love me sweet With all thou art Feeling, thinking, seeing; Love me in the Lightest part, Love me in full Being.

And that dismal cry rose slowly And sank slowly through the air, Full of spirit's melancholy And eternity's despair; And they heard the words it said,- "Pan is dead! great Pan is dead! Pan, Pan is dead!"

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

The least flower, with brimming cup, may stand and share its dew drop with another near.

And each man stands with his face in the light. Of his own drawn sword, ready to do what a hero can.

Happy are all free peoples, too strong to be dispossessed. But blessed are those among nations who dare to be strong for the rest!

Will that light come again, As now these tears come...falling hot and real!