There Will Be Killing Till

It Is Not Right To Glory In The Slain

Tell Me, O Muse, Of Travellers Far And Wide

And Heaven, That Every Virtue Bears In Mind, E'en To The Ashes Of The Just Is Kind.

I Hate To Tell Again A Tale Once Fully Told.

I Am A Part Of All That I Have Met. Yet, Experience Is An Arch Wherethro Gleams That Untravl'd World Whose Margin Fades Forever And Forever When I Move.