No Man Or Woman Born, Coward Or

But Sure The Eye Of Time Beholds No Name, So Blest As Thine In All The Rolls Of Fame.

It Is Tedious To Tell Again Tales Already Plainly Told.

But You, Achilles,/ There Is Not A Man In The World More Blest Than You--/ There Never Has Been, Never Will Be One./ Time Was, When You Were Alive, We Argives/ Honored You As A God, And Now Down Here, I See/ You Lord It Over The Dead In All Your Power./ So Grieve No More At Dying, Great Achilles.’ I Reassured The Ghost, But He Broke Out Protesting,/ ‘no Winning Words About Death To Me, Shining Odysseus!/ By God, I’d Rather Slave On Earth For Another Man--/ Some Dirt-poor Tenant Farmer Who Scrapes To Keep Alive—than Rule Down Here Over All The Breathless Dead.

The Persuasion Of A Friend Is A Strong Thing.

Sleep, Delicious And Profound, The Very Counterfeit Of Death