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Theoretikos
THIS mighty empire hath but feet of clay:
Of all its ancient chivalry and might Our little island is forsaken quite: Some enemy hath stolen its crown of bay, And from its hills that voice hath passed away Which spake of Freedom: O come out of it, Come out of it, my Soul, thou art not fit For this vile traffic-house, where day by day Wisdom and reverence are sold at mart, And the rude people rage with ignorant cries Against an heritage of centuries. It mars my calm: wherefore in dreams of Art And loftiest culture I would stand apart, Neither for God, nor for his enemies. |
#2
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Quote:
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WA-TU-IZZU MANTASHA; WATU-ZILLU MANTASHA |
#3
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theoriticos
lovely lines...age old wisdom from a colossus...
thanx for sharing sat |
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