Alas, Poor Men, Their Destiny. When All Goes Well A Shadow Will Overthrow It. If It Be Unkind One Stroke Of A Wet Sponge Wipes All The Picture Out.
God Planteth In Mortal Men The Cause Of Sin Whensoever He Wills Utterly To Destroy A House.
Chorus: Zeus, Who Guided Men To Think Who Laid It Down That Wisdom Comes Alone Through Suffering. Still There Drips In Sleep Against The Heart Grief Of Memory; Against Our Pleasure We Are Temperate.
The Gods At Will Can Shape A Gladder Strain, And From The Lamentations At The Graveside, A Song Of Triumph May Arise.