So many gods, so many creeds, so many paths that wind and wind while just the art of being kind is all the sad world needs.

You may choose your words like a connoisseur, And polish it up with art, But the word that sways, and stirs, and stays, Is the word that comes from the heart.

With care, and skill, and cunning art, She parried Time's malicious dart, And kept the years at bay, Till passion entered in her heart and aged her in a day!

The splendid discontent of God With chaos made the world. And from the discontent of man The worlds best progress springs.

It has ever been since time began, and ever will be, till time lose breath, that love is a mood - no more - to man, and love to a woman is life or death.