My object to venture the suggestion that an important application of…

The old Old winds that blew When chaos was, what do They tell the clattered trees that I Should weep?

These be Three silent things: The falling snow...the hour Before the dawn...the mouth of one Just dead.

Listen. With faint dry sound, Like steps of passing ghosts, The leaves, frost-crisp'd, break from the trees And fall.

I know Not these my hands And yet I think there was A woman like me once had hands Like these.

Perhaps half the falsehood in the world is due to lack of power to detect the truth and to express it. aids both in discernment and in expression of things as they are.

Why should Honesty seek any safer retreat From the lawyers or barges, odd-rot-'em? For the lawyers are just at the top of the street, And the barges are just at the bottom!