How Loud Clocks Can Tick When A

Poetry, Far More Than Fiction, Reveals The Soul Of Humanity.

Freighted With Hope, Crimsoned With Joy, We Scatter The Leaves Of Our Opening Rose.

Oh! To Be A Flower Nodding In The Sun, Bending, Then Upspringing As The Breezes Run.

Without Poetry The Soul And Heart Of Man Starves And Dies.

If What We Worship Fail Us, Still The Fire Burns On, And It Is Much To Have Believed.