WITH eerie cadence hoots the owl; The moon is on her silver throne; (The lions peer, the lions prowl, About the pillars proud or prone.) From desert wastes an ancient song Upon the wind drifts out and in; (The lions they are lean and long And sly and sinuous as sin.) Enscrolled entablature and plinth Are shattered or are toppled things; (The lions search each labyrinth Above the swathed dust of kings.) Here sounded once the Luxor lyre, Or high flutes shrilled the Theban lay; (The lions are man's fell desire To grasp, to gain, to filch, to prey.) Here Joy was fluent as are birds, Or like a lissome stripling ran; (The lions are the lying words That undermine man's faith in man.) Here there were warlike triumphs; here Of old the whole world made its mart; (The lions are those forms of fear That batten upon Honor's heart.) And shall the stature of our state To shards be riven thus and rent? (The lions, greed reincarnate, Are evil's base embodiment.) We can but strive, beseech, implore, For faith, for foresight, and for power, Since ever, beside gate and door, The lions wait and watch the hour! |