We Mortals Hear Only The News, And

Sleep, Delicious And Profound, The Very Counterfeit Of Death

The Sun Rose On The Flawless Brimming Sea Into A Sky All Brazen-all One Brightening For Gods Immortal And For Mortal Men On Plowlands Kind With Grain.

There Will Be Killing Till The Score Is Paid.

Toil Is The Lot Of All, And Bitter Woe The Fate Of Many.

Beauty! Terrible Beauty! A Deathless Goddess-- So She Strikes Our Eyes!