I will be gone from here and sing my songs/ In the forest wilderness where the wild beasts are,/ And carve in letters on the little trees/ The story of my love, and as the trees/ Will grow letters too will grow, to cry/ In a louder voice the story of my love.

Curst greed of gold, what crimes thy tyrant power has caused.

Each man is led by his own liking.

Yield thou not to adversity, but press on the more bravely.

Fury itself supplies arms.

We have to thank God for this retirement.

Time is flying never to return.