Have Hung My Dank And

To Overcome In Battle, And Subdue Nations, And Bring Home Spoils With Infinite Man-slaughter, Shall Be Held The Highest Pitch Of Human Glory.

Hide Me From Day's Garish Eye, While The Bee With Honied Thigh, That At Her Flowery Work Doth Sing, And The Waters Murmuring With Such Consort As They Keep, Entice The Dewy-feathered Sleep.

There Is Nothing That Making Men Rich And Strong But That Which They Carry Inside Of Them. True Wealth Is Of The Heart, Not Of The Hand.

So Glistered The Dire Snake , And Into Fraud Led Eve, Our Credulous Mother, To The Tree Of Prohibition, Root Of All Our Woe.

O Execrable Son! So To Aspire Above His Brethren, To Himself Assuming Authority Usurped, From God Not Given. He Gave Us Only Over Beast, Fish, Fowl, Dominion Absolute; That Right We Hold By His Donation; But Man Over Men He Made Not Lord; Such Title To Himself Reserving, Human Left From Human Free.