The pomps of butchery, financial p
Told 'em to die in war, and then t
Then cut their saving to the half
When will this system lie down in
The pomps of Fleet St., festering

‘€˜We are 'ere met together
in this momentous hower,
Ter lick th’ bankers’ dirty boots
an’ keep the Bank in power.'€™
We are 'ere met together

Your songs?
Oh! The little mothers
Will sing them in the twilight,
And when the night
Shrinketh the kiss of the dawn

Phyllidula is scrawny but amorous,
Thus have the gods awarded her,
That in pleasure she receives more
If she does not count this blessed
Let her change her religion.

FROM '€˜DIE HEIMKEHR’
Is your hate, then, of such measur
Do you, truly, so detest me?
Through all the world will I comp
Of how you have addressed me.

Come my cantilations,
Let us dump our hatreds into one b
Hot sun, clear water, fresh wind,
Let me be free of pavements,
Let me be free of the printers.

And then went down to the ship,
Set keel to breakers, forth on the
We set up mast and sail on that sw
Bore sheep aboard her, and our bod
Heavy with weeping, and winds from

Here we are, picking the first fer
And saying: When shall we get bac
Here we are because we have the K
We have no comfort because of thes
We grub the soft fern—shoots,

Blue mountains to the north of the
White river winding about them;
Here we must make separation
And go out through a thousand mile
Mind like a floating wide cloud,

Luini in porcelain!
The grand piano
Utters a profane
Protest with her clear soprano.
The sleek head emerges