Every Concrete Object Has Abstract Value, Is

War Wreaked On You His Hideous Ravishment; We, We Alone, Nereids Inviolate, Remain To Weep, With The Sea-birds To Chant: Corinth Is Lost, Corinth Is Desolate.

Thoth, Hermes, The Stylus, The Palette, The Pen, The Quill Endure, Though Our Books Are A Floor Of Smouldering Ash Under Our Feet.

You Are Wind In A Stark Tree, You Are The Stark Tree Unbent, You Are A Strung Bow, You Are An Arrow.

Words Were Her Plague And Words Were Her Redemption.

War Is A Fevered God Who Takes Alike Maiden And King And Clod.