Along the shore the tall thin gra**,
That fringes that dark river,
While sinuously soft feet pa**
Beings to bleed and quiver.
The great dark voice breaks with a sob
Across the womb of night;
Above your grave, the tom-toms throb
And the hills are weird with light.
The great dark beast is like a well
Drained bitter by the sky,
And all the honeyed lies they tell
Come there to thirst and die.
No lie is strong enough to k**
The roots that work below,
From your rich dust and slaughtered will
A tree with tongues shall grow.