"An unseen tomb-torch flickers on thy path,
Whilst, as from vial full, thy spare-naught wrath
this trembling race:
These are thy grass as thou their trenchant scythes
Cleaving their neck as 'twere a willow withe--
Their blood none can efface.
Whilst, as from vial full, thy spare-naught wrath
this trembling race:
These are thy grass as thou their trenchant scythes
Cleaving their neck as 'twere a willow withe--
Their blood none can efface.
Hugo - Poems
