What mouthless idiom here throbs the indurated
Heft of engulfed ages? Enshadowed fathers,
To out-moan the wind as through your pillared clefts
It casts such chill, what could those now who yet
May thrill in the chant of your stern revenant
Invoke to reply through this impassable
Abysm through which you loom? We who suffer
Our fatal truth and mourn, and must mourn ever
The catastrophe of its depleting
Survey of all our hearts need most.
Your fate-fractured mortar clasped so in frost,
An amaranthine flood, like of a dream,
Lambently through the fading of the stars
Heaves to wake again--speak!