Unformatted text preview: as life itself is a perpetual trochoid. Men died vainly wondering why, Aimlessly meandering where no light shines. Why, men, on this winding trail we bestride, Just for a peek at the end of the line. A straight course the sojourn runs, And life goes on and on. For the Temple of Truth we laid down our lives, Swords in hand, we shall shake the earthly ground. Cycloid, cycloid, Thou reincarnate Helen of Troy. Like insentient moths drawn to fire, I, Son of Science, meekly desire Truth to be returned to the beguiled earth, As the trumpet has sounded for thy thunderous birth!...
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- Fall '07
- English-language films, Helen, thy thunderous birth, mighty Illuminati hath