March in unison o’ divisions of my heart Of the sharded moon Let each battalion have its part To blind and blaze in its own heaven And fight by its phases More than seventy times seven. A braided heart I had in keeping Now bound and guarded Under eyes unsleeping I spurned the crass and goaded flesh When to have you then Was to love you less.
Strong men are weeping Weeping softly at twilight The sound rises with the Smoke of cook fires The city trembles in the Evening light for As the face of the sun has left the sky The voice of justice has fallen silent in the gate A child has taken his place From the top of the wall a child lifts its voice From the gate there is no answer The eminent men are silent The landowners examine Hastily written contracts in the Weak light of a single lamp Strong men selling their inheritance For doubtful promises of safety And the seats in the gate are empty