But If You Ever Come To A

Therefore, Since The World Has Still Much Good, But Much Less Good Than Ill

Wanderers Eastward, Wanderers West, Know You Why You Cannot Rest? 'tis That Every Mother's Son Travails With A Skeleton. Lie Down In The Bed Of Dust; Bear The Fruit That Bear You Must; Bring The Eternal Seed To Light, And Morn Is All The Same As Night.

Oh When I Was In Love With You, Then I Was Clean And Brave, And Miles Around The Wonder Grew How Well Did I Behave. And Now The Fancy Passes By, And Nothing Will Remain, And Miles Around They'll Say That I Am Quite Myself Again.

Hope Lies To Mortals And Most Believe Her, But Man's Deceiver Was Never Mine.

All Knowledge Is Precious Whether Or Not It Serves The Slightest Human Use.