The Gifts Of Bad Men Bring No

When Good Men Die Their Goodness Does Not Perish.

No One Can Confidently Say That He Will Still Be Living Tomorrow.

I Care For Riches, To Make Gifts.

Who Knoweth If To Die Be But To Live, And That Called Life By Mortals Be But Death?

He Is Life's Liberating Force. He Is Release Of Limbs And Communion Through Dance. He Is Laughter, And Music In Flutes. He Is Repose From All Cares -- He Is Sleep! When His Blood Bursts From The Grape And Flows Across Tables Laid In His Honor To Fuse With Our Blood, He Gently, Gradually, Wraps Us In Shadows Of Ivy-cool Sleep.