You Ought Not To Practice Childish Ways,

Close To The Gates A Spacious Garden Lies, From The Storms Defended And Inclement Skies; Four Acres Was The Allotted Space Of Ground, Fenc'd With A Green Enclosure All Around. Tall Thriving Trees Confessed The Fruitful Mold: The Reddening Apple Ripens Here To Gold, Here The Blue Fig With Luscious Juice Overflows, With Deeper Red The Full Pomegranate Glows, The Branch Here Bends Beneath The Weighty Pear, And Verdant Olives Flourish Round The Year.

Behold, On Wrong Swift Vengeance Waits; And Art Subdues The Strong.

The God Of War Is Impartial: He Hands Out Death To The Man Who Hands Out Death.

As Leaves On The Trees, Such Is The Life Of Man.

By Turns The Nine Delight To Sing