I Don't Know How Much Longer I

Pray, For All Men Need The Aid Of The Gods.

Is He Not Sacred, Even To The Gods, The Wandering Man Who Comes In Weariness?

Urge Him With Truth To Frame His Fair Replies And Sure He Will For Wisdom Never Lies.

Bad Herdsmen Waste The Flocks Which Thou Hast Left Behind.

Insignificant Mortals, Who Are As Leaves Are, And Now Flourish And Grow Warm With Life, And Feed On What The Ground Gives, But Then Again Fade Away And Are Dead.