In Every Sorrowing Soul I Pour'd Delight,

We All Scribble Poetry.

The Force Of Union Conquers All.

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 God Of War Will See Fair Play-he's Often Slain That Wants To Slay!

You Never Know When An Old Calendar Might Come In Handy! Sure, It's Not 1985 Right Now, But Who Knows What Tomorrow Will Bring?