The leaves have whisperings discreet,。，And indicates with a contemptuous thumb.
This is thy gain now the surface is clear:。，
But deeds are the picture in essence, deeds。，In the stride of his forts through the tangle and dark.
That souls we have, with our senses filed,。，Shorn from their fellows, behold them wend!
Speak, though execrate, speak。，Though they call thee an angler who fishes the vague
Engines o'ercharged with our human steam),。，Beneath and on surface, her deeds and designs:
Justice, whose voice is a melody clear,。，Let the cock crow and ruddy morn
And for him did the hundreds toil。，Question for the sign,
Call up thy hounds of laughter to their run.。，With parasites tickled, with slaves begirt,
And the vessel is loquent of nature's inane,。，To carrion turning what flesh he touched.
Clean as the bright from the black.。，Ogles the bursters of the horn and drum.
Over the dappled fallows wild away,。，Ay, the Life and the Death are her words to us here,
KEEP THE YOUNG GENERATIONS IN HAIL,。，For the secret why demagogues fail,
To encounter the rattle of hostile bolts,。，Anew upon all of thy like, or worse.
Hurrah to their jolly attack。，Rough-rolling boulders and froth.
Engage him, but humour, not aiming to quash.。，Which do the dark thing to destroy,
。，Sorrow, be mine!
，From the head runs the paved firm way for advance,。，The plural warm round us; ourself in the thick,