Little I have known of love
And less of mirth besides
But on the windswept plain where the gilt horde rove
On sands unkissed by tides.
Little I have known of idling
And more of the driven cob
Left beside the temple writhing
The spoils split to the mob.
Little I have known of culture
And more of the looted train
O’er sacked holdfasts circles the vulture
Our kingdom wrought of pain.
Little I have known of brothers
Nor of sisters unstolen, unravaged.
The cause of strife for red-eyed mothers
Cross’d the wastes the vanguard savage.
From whence we came, we melt again
Charging that stinging lunar lay
For winter lusher land and fen
Beyond a salt-bit, coarse-grass’d land, a jagged black stone bay.
Alchemisland 
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