How Delicate Her Feet Who Shuns The

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

The Outcome Of The War Is In Our Hands; The Outcome Of Words Is In The Council.

Men In Their Generations Are Like The Leaves Of The Trees. The Wind Blows And One Year's Leaves Are Scattered On The Ground; But The Trees Burst Into Bud And Put On Fresh Ones When The Spring Comes Round.

They Did Not Know Her-gods Are Hard For Mortals To Recognize.

She Threw Into The Wine Which They Were Drinking A Drug Which Takes Away Grief And Passion And Brings Forgetfulness Of All Ills