There is no truer truth obtainable by Man than comes of music
Who hears music feels his solitude peopled at once.
So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon, Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon!
Truth that peeps Over the glass's edge when dinner's done.
How strange now, looks the life he makes us lead; So free we seem, so fettered fast we are!
God is the perfect poet.