DEVOURER OF NATIONS by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET

"Strength shall be thrust to the Eater
And down to the Strong One, sweet."
Was ever a proverb neater,
A phrasing more apt or meeter
To fix on our Course-Completer
As we end Life's beat?

You'll decorate quite the scarlet
And secret hall of his tongue,
With your clasped hands marble and stilly
And your face like a frozen lily,
For Death is a luscious varlet
And likes maids young.

So there's the end of it, Nelly,
Of you and your purple hat.
And I, your impotent Shelley,
With czars and pariahs smelly,
Shall tapestry well his belly,
That grey, round Rat!

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