I Long For Home, Long For The

Like The Generations Of Leaves, The Lives Of Mortal Men. Now The Wind Scatters The Old Leaves Across The Earth, Now The Living Timber Bursts With The New Buds And Spring Comes Round Again. And So With Men: As One Generation Comes To Life, Another Dies Away.

The Rule Of The Many Is Not Well. One Must Be Chief In War And One The King.

Boy, Those Germans Have A Word For Everything!

Yea, And If Some God Shall Wreck Me In The Wine-dark Deep, Even So I Will Endure… For Already Have I Suffered Full Much, And Much Have I Toiled In Perils Of Waves And War. Let This Be Added To The Tale Of Those.

Ill Fares The State Where Many Masters Rule; Let One Be Lord, One King Supreme.