Anger And Just Rebuke, And

With Ruin Upon Ruin, Rout On Rout, Confusion Worse Confounded.

For What Can War, But Endless War, Still Breed?

Evil On Itself Shall Back Recoil.

Beauty Is Nature's Coin, Must Not Be Hoarded, But Must Be Current, And The Good Thereof Consists In Mutual And Partaken Bliss.

So Sinks The Day-star In The Ocean Bed, And Yet Anon Repairs His Drooping Head, And Tricks His Beams, And With New-spangled Ore Flames In The Forehead Of The Morning Sky.