The Life, Which Others Pay, Let Us

Words Empty As The Wind Are Best Left Unsaid.

And Overpowered By Memory Both Men Gave Way To Grief. Priam Wept Freely For Man - Killing Hector, Throbbing, Crouching Before Achilles' Feet As Achilles Wept Himself, Now For His Father, Now For Patroclus Once Again And Their Sobbing Rose And Fell Throughout The House.

Down From His Brow She Ran His Curls Like Thick Hyacinth Clusters Full Of Blooms

Not Vain The Weakest, If Their Force Unite.

There Is No Fouler Fiend Than A Woman When Her Mind Is Bent To Evil.