The Devil's Most Devilish When Respectable.

And That Dismal Cry Rose Slowly And Sank Slowly Through The Air, Full Of Spirit's Melancholy And Eternity's Despair; And They Heard The Words It Said,- "pan Is Dead! Great Pan Is Dead! Pan, Pan Is Dead!"

When The Dust Of Death Has Choked A Great Man's Voice, The Common Words He Said Turn Oracles, The Common Thoughts He Yoked Like Horses Draw Like Griffins.

Two Human Loves Make One Divine.

I Begin To Think That None Are So Bold As The Timid, When They Are Fairly Roused.

I Love Thee Freely, As Men Strive For Right. I Love Thee Purely, As They Turn From Praise. I Love Thee With The Passion Put To Use