The Greeks had genius,--`t was a gift The Muse vouchsafed in glorious measure; The boon of Fame they made their aim And prized above all worldly treasure. But _we_,--how do we train _our_ youth? _Not_ in the arts that are immortal, But in the greed for gains that speed From him who stands at Death`s dark portal. Ah, when this slavish love of gold Once binds the soul in greasy fetters, How prostrate lies,--how droops and dies The great, the noble cause of letters!SourceThe script ran 0.002 seconds.
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