Ye Waves That O'er Th' Interminable Ocean

Those Who Would Learn Must Suffer. In Our Own Despair, Against Our Will, Wisdom Comes To Us.

For By The Will Of The Gods Fate Hath Held Sway Since Ancient Days.

Only When A Man's Life Comes To Its End In Prosperity Dare We Pronounce Him Happy.

The Moving Light, Rejoicing In Its Strength, Sped From The Pyre Of Pine, And Urged Its Way, In Golden Glory, Like Some Strange New Sun.

With Our Own Feathers, Not By Others' Hands, Are We Now Smitten.