In Saffron-colored Mantle From The Tides Of

His Descent Was Like Nightfall.

By Jove The Stranger And The Poor Are Sent, And What To Those We Give, To Jove Is Lent.

The Other Day, I Was So Desperate For A Beer, I Snuck Into The Football Stadium And Ate The Dirt Under The Bleachers.

Look Now How Mortals Are Blaming The Gods, For They Say That Evils Come From Us, But In Fact They Themselves Have Woes Beyond Their Share Because Of Their Own Follies.

On These Sands And In The Clefts Of The Rocks, In The Depths Of The Sea, In The Creaking Of The Pines, You'll Spy Secret Footprints And Catch Far-off Voices From The Homecoming Celebration. This Land Still Longs For Odysseus.