Few Sons Attain The Praise Of Their

I Long For Home, Long For The Sight Of Home.

The Strong Must Protect The Sweet.

Here, Therefore, Huge And Mighty Warrior Though You Be, Here Shall You Die.

Accept These Grateful Tears...for Thee They Flow, For Thee... That Ever Felt Another's Woe.

Like Leaves On Trees The Race Of Man Is Found,- Now Green In Youth, Now Withering On The Ground; Another Race The Following Spring Supplies: They Fall Successive, And Successive Rise.