In mindless thought's exonerating breeze
A catacomb of graves to fill they seek,
And in the coldest winter long to seize
The warmth to vow for them demands unique,
The bravest hearts of ancestry not known
Forgetting mere human compassion in revolt,
Erasing memories of the majestic throne
And arming their surveyor with a Kolt,
Obeying blindly for the sun does shine,
They pledge to what is sacred, then betray -
Their mindless soul we find again malign,
For moon too shines, thus moon they ought obey.
Until this tombstone's lifted from my heart,
How can I powers to those men impart?