Fire Hath Its Force Abated

Let Greeks Be Greeks, And Women What They Are.

If We Had No Winter, The Spring Would Not Be So Pleasant.

But Man Grows Old, Lies Down, Remains Where Once He's Laid.

Flesh Of My Flesh, Bone Of My Bone, I Here, Though There, Yet Both But One.

My Love Is Such That Rivers Cannot Quench, Nor Ought But Love From Thee, Give Recompence. Thy Love Is Such I Can No Way Repay, The Heavens Reward Thee Manifold I Pray.