Words Are The Parents Of A Causeless

The Moving Light, Rejoicing In Its Strength, Sped From The Pyre Of Pine, And Urged Its Way, In Golden Glory, Like Some Strange New Sun.

What Good Is It To Live A Life That Brings Pains?

Chorus: Zeus, Who Guided Men To Think Who Laid It Down That Wisdom Comes Alone Through Suffering. Still There Drips In Sleep Against The Heart Grief Of Memory; Against Our Pleasure We Are Temperate.

Oaths Are Not The Credit Of Men But Men Of Oaths.

For In Pure Maidens, Knowing Not The Marriage-bed, The Glance Of The Eyes Sinks From Shame.