But Fear And The Muse In Turn

We Aged A Hundred Years, And This Happened In A Single Hour: The Short Summer Had Already Died, The Body Of The Ploughed Plains Smoked.

Sweet To Me Was Not The Voice Of Man, But The Wind's Voice Was Understood By Me. The Burdocks And The Nettles Fed My Soul, But I Loved The Silver Willow Best Of All.

All Has Been Looted, Betrayed, Sold; Black Death's Wing Flashed Ahead.

Today I Have So Much To Do: I Must Kill Memory Once And For All, I Must Turn My Soul To Stone, I Must Learn To Live Again. Unless ... Summer's Ardent Rustling Is Like A Festival Outside My Window.

And You Know, I Agree To Everything: I Will Condemn, I Will Forget, I Will Give Comfort To The Enemy, Darkness Will Be Light And Sin Lovely.