The Soul's Rialto Hath Its Merchandise, I

I Tell You, Hopeless Grief Is Passionless.

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!"

I Work With Patience, Which Is Almost Power.

True Knowledge Comes Only Through Suffering.

If Thou Must Love Me, Let It Be For Naught Except For Love's Sake Only.