In Every Sorrowing Soul I

Who Ne'er Knew Salt, Or Heard The Billows Roar.

One Man Is A Splendid Fighter -- A God Has Made Him So -- One's A Dancer, Another Skilled At Lyre And Song, And Deep In The Next Man's Chest Farseeing Zeus Plants The Gift Of Judgment, Good Clear Sense. And Many Reap The Benefits Of That Treasure.

Do Thou Restrain The Haughty Spirit In Thy Breast, For Better Far Is Gentle Courtesy.

I Want To Be Alone With My Thought.

Will Cast The Spear And Leave The Rest To Jove.