Lift Up Our Eyes To You? No,

War Wreaked On You His Hideous Ravishment; We, We Alone, Nereids Inviolate, Remain To Weep, With The Sea-birds To Chant: Corinth Is Lost, Corinth Is Desolate.

Not God With Wine, Nor Death, Nor Hate For A Cry, But God With A Song

Escape From The Power Of The Hunting Pack, And To Know That Wisdom Is Best And Beauty Sheer Holiness.

Why Wait For Death To Mow? Why Wait For Death To Sow Us In The Ground?

We Are Voyagers, Discoverers Of The Not-known, The Unrecorded; We Have No Map; Possibly We Will Reach Haven, Heaven.