Know From The Bounteous Heaven All Riches

Like Strength Is Felt From Hope, And From Despair.

Wine Can Of Their Wits The Wise Beguile, Make The Sage Frolic, And The Serious Smile

Generations Of Men Are Like The Leaves. In Winter, Winds Blow Them Down To Earth, But Then, When Spring Season Comes Again, The Budding Wood Grows More. And So With Men: One Generation Grows, Another Dies Away.

Oh, My Tattered Rags Are Caught On Your Coffee Table.

By Jove The Stranger And The Poor Are Sent, And What To Those We Give, To Jove Is Lent.