How Shall The Soul Of A Man

The Snows And The Roses Of Yesterday Are Vanished; And What Is Love But A Rose That Fades?

. . . The Weal Of The Race, And The Cause Of Humanity, Here And Now, Are Enough To Give Life Meaning And Death As Well.

And I Never Started To Plow In My Life That Some One Did Not Stop In The Road And Take Me Away To A Dance Or Picnic. I Ended Up With Forty Acres; I Ended Up With A Broken Fiddle— And A Broken Laugh, And A Thousand Memories, And Not A Single Regret.

The Soul Of The River Had Entered My Soul, And The Gathered Power Of My Soul Was Moving So Swiftly, It Seemed To Be At Rest Under Cities Of Cloud And Under Spheres Of Silver And Changing Worlds Until I Saw A Flash Of Trumpets Above The Battlements Over Time!

In Time You Shall See Fate Approach You In The Shape Of Your Own Image In The Mirror.