Nature's Deepest Laws, Her Only True Laws,

So Fleet The Works Of Men, Back To Their Earth Again;ancient And Holy Things Fade Like A Dream.

Now, To Tell My Story--if Not As It Ought To Be Told, At Least As I Can Tell It,--i Must Go Back Sixteen Years, To The Days When Whitbury Boasted Of Forty Coaches Per Diem, Instead Of One Railway, And Set Forth How In Its Southern Suburb, There Stood Two Pleasant House Side By Side, With Their Gardens Sloping Down To The Whit, And Parted From Each Other Only By The High Brick Fruit-wall, Through Which There Used To Be A Door Of Communication; For The Two Occupiers Were Fast Friends.

Men Must Work, And Women Must Weep.

Did Not Learned Men, Too, Hold, Till Within The Last Twenty-five Years, That A Flying Dragon Was An Impossible Monster? And Do We Not Now Know That There Are Hundreds Of Them Found Fossil Up And Down The World? People Call Them Pterodactyles: But That Is Only Because They Are Ashamed To Call Them Flying Dragons, After Denying So Long That Flying Dragons Could Exist.

Three Fishers Went Sailing Away To The West,/ Away To The West As The Sun Went Down.