Here stands before us fearsome mighty Time,

Serrated blade still dripping red with blood;

Defiant, dark, delighting in cruel crimes,

Bellicose, bleak, belligerent and proud.

Debasing dreams of immortality—

Though acolytes in fervent prayer protest;

Behind him swards of black finality

That mocks the very hope of heaven’s rest.

What power do we hold against such force?

What heart of flesh could ever make a stand?

Must mortals bow as slaves to forgone course—

What action here might stay his cruel hand?

From leveled fields, his joy in carnage fed,

He laughs as children wail among the dead.