All June I Bound The Rose In

On The Earth The Broken Arcs; In The Heaven A Perfect Round.

Inscribe All Human Effort With One Word, Artistry's Haunting Curse, The Incomplete!

The Great Beacon Light God Sets In All, The Conscience Of Each Bosom.

We Mortals Cross The Ocean Of This World Each In His Average Cabin Of A Life; The Bests Not Big, The Worst Yields Elbowroom.

I Dare Not So Honor My Mere Wishes And Prayers As To Put Them For A Moment Beside Your Noble Acts; But This Know, I Would Rather Submit To The Worst Of Deaths, So Far As Pain Goes, Than Have A Single Dog Or Cat Tortured On The Pretence Of Sparing Me A Twinge Or Two.