Goddess Of Song, Teach Me The Story

Sleep, Delicious And Profound, The Very Counterfeit Of Death

The Son Of Saturn Gave The Nod With His Dark Brows. The Ambrosial Curls Upon The Sovereign One's Immortal Head Were Shaken, And With Them The Mighty Mount, Olympus Trembled.

Hunger Is Insolent, And Will Be Fed.

O Friends, Be Men; So Act That None May Feel Ashamed To Meet The Eyes Of Other Men. Think Each One Of This Children And His Wife, His Home, His Parents, Living Yet And Dead. For Them, The Absent Ones, I Supplicate, And Bid You Rally Here, And Scorn To Fly.

Down From His Brow She Ran His Curls Like Thick Hyacinth Clusters Full Of Blooms