Unseeing eyes on a garden plane With "No thought" whispering among them. No caller's tug will turn This wistfull movement through knight and manor Past that place of the past and present tense.
Drink now the wane The wallow The sparkling trickle of fanatical pride. A millenium of martyrs (And a mindful lot) Will not turn this pillar Yet a skin of green will hold it.
A peaceful breeze pets the leaves And the symphony resounds.
