The Debts We Owe Ourselves Are The

We Are Betrayed By What Is False Within

The Future Not Being Born, My Friend, We Will Abstain From Baptizing It.

For Singing Till His Heaven Fills, 'tis Love Of Earth That He Instills, And Ever Winging Up And Up, Our Valley Is His Golden Cup, And He The Wine Which Over Flows To Lift Us With Him As He Goes.

Not Till The Fire Is Dying In The Grate, Look We For Any Kinship With The Stars. Oh, Wisdom Never Comes When It Is Gold, And The Great Price We Paid For It Full Worth: We Have It Only When We Are Half Earth. Little Avails That Coinage To The Old!

See Ye Not, Courtesy Is The True Alchemy, Turning To Gold All It Touches And Tries?