A day which passed without a poem from my pen I considered lost and misused.

The splendid discontent of God With chaos made the world. And from the discontent of man The worlds best progress springs.

'Tis they who are in their own chambers haunted By thoughts that like unbidden guests intrude, And sit down, uninvited and unwanted, And make a nightmare of the solitude.

Always continue to climb.

Talk happiness. The world is sad enough without your woe. No path is wholly rough.

I know there are no errors, In the great Eternal plan.

It is time that outraged public sentiment cry out in detestation of the outrages committed in the name of religion.