or Roman sense, yet a great American Classic—­with its pungent odor of Blue Jeans, with its clean, sweet, clear-cut, fine smell, of its native soil—­ that hand may never again hold the Pen; the man himself, may crumble—­God forbid!—­back into the Dust—­ that “Little Dust of Harm”—­out of which he came; but his Poems will not, cannot die.  When those other Writers will have been forgotten; when even the gifted Maker of “Ben Hur” will be, but as an empty name; even then, this Poet, and his Poems, will cleave to the Mind, cling to the Heart, of countless Generations, not yet born!

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Whatever Is—­Is Best