Amid the low leaking ebb of humanity in flower,
When gone are the days of the Light,
These are the days of the Night,
I saw three tall men in the dust,
The first one whose skin was that of rust :
"As though the rambling of these machines,
created the ravages of these monstrous men,
Life's simple pleasures are drained and sickly.
The Ages have won their war."
And he drained off as the sand dune shifts in the wind.
The second man, the tallest one,
Stood taller now, and spoke :
"Three clay pidgeons, break, break, break!
All voices crumble in God's wake."
And he shifted and became a marble column.
And the last man, who now stood
At the column's top, was dark and alone :
"Long is the road of life, and dreary,
Yet life is neither good nor evil;
Life is bittersweet and ironic."
And there he stood.