Anarchy
I saw a city filled with lust and shame,Where men, like wolves, slunk through the grim half-light;And sudden, in the midst of it, there cameOne who spoke boldly for the cause of Right.
And speaking, fell before that brutish raceLike some poor wren that shrieking eagles tear,While brute Dishonour, with her bloodless faceStood by and smote his lips that moved in prayer.
“Speak not of God! In centuries that wordHath not been uttered! Our own king are we.”And God stretched forth his finger as He heardAnd o’er it cast a thousand leagues of sea.