There Is No Harm In A Man's

There Are Gems Of Wondrous Brightness Ofttimes Lying At Our Feet, And We Pass Them, Walking Thoughtless, Down The Busy, Crowded Street. If We Knew, Our Pace Would Slacken, We Would Step More Oft With Care, Lest Our Careless Feet Be Treading To The Earth Some Jewel Rare.

Men, Not Children Or Servants, Tempered And Taught To The End; Cleansed Of Servile Panic, Slow To Dread Or Despise, Humble Because Of Knowledge, Mighty By Sacrifice.

Our Hearts Where They Rocked Our Cradle, Our Love Where We Spent Our Toil, And Our Faith, And Our Hope, And Our Honor, We Pledge To Our Native Soil. God Gave All Men All Earth To Love, But Since Our Hearts Are Small, Ordained For Each One Spot Should Prove Beloved Over All.

Oh East Is East And West Is West And Never The Twain Shall Meet.

And The First Rude Sketch That The World Had Seen Was Joy To His Mighty Heart, Till The Devil Whispered Behind The Leaves 'it's Pretty, But Is It Art?'