|
| |
| Let us have madness openly. |
| 0 men Of my generation. |
| Let us follow |
| The footsteps of this slaughtered age: |
| See it trail across Time's dim land |
| Into the closed house of eternity |
| With the noise that dying has, |
| With the face that dead things wear-- |
| nor ever say |
| We wanted more; we looked to find |
| An open door, an utter deed of love, |
| Transforming day's evil darkness; |
| but We found extended hell and fog Upon the earth, |
| and within the head |
| A rotting bog of lean huge graves. |
| |
| |
| |
