Earth-Bound:

"We were whole once!" he cried, "from days forgot."
        In grasses green
        We clad our feet
        A wreath of clouds
            Our crown

"When we were made kings over forest and field."
        Of all who slept
        On this man's ground
            Or mine

            They once that freely roamed the plains
                that now have cause to weep
            That sought no shelter from furious rains
                now dream untroubled by sleep

"How far we've fallen, how long we've slept."
        No grace to greet
        Each morning's feast
        No song to grace
            Each breath
No silence to fill long troubled hearts
        In all that lust
        For that man's gold
            Or mine

            How softly we tread stone-circled hills
                that once knew darkness deep
            In flame-cast shadows -- Promethean mills
                dream now untroubled with sleep

"When she calls us home," he sighed, "be low."
        The head held high
        Falls by her side
        Not one man then
            Shall weep
        No sight more glorious to them
            Than sacrifice
        All life worth more
Than mine
Night's shade shall fall, that we forget
        in times of peace we slept
'Til Death, her gentle wings enshrined
        in parting softly sing:

        "Sleep no more to dream."


    Sun-Sworn:

"Awake now mine! sweet soldier sublime.
    Death's tolling bell no more succeed
    to quench thine thirst than fire.

"That once burnt low upon the ground,
    now gripped in heaven's skein;
    on Earth sought more
    than earthly snares:
    in Lion's mane now twined.

"Such souls, as passing, stir no dust,
    in passing stillness find.

"And they, in heaven's arc that trust,
    may sleep in darkness blind.

"But thee! whose voice the mountains move,
    whose eyes night's sky should pall,
    shall raise no mound, no burial shroud
    shall crown thy flame-wreathed skull.

    Death's head shall fall, ere we forget
        war's wage on the lowliest of man --
            the mightiest of kings.
    'Til Night, her endless arms enclose
        nor parting, nor to sing: