War, though Malcyon make,
shall be lain upon ground, hallow—--
Her fire to breath, our ashes at stake,
where to our fate we follow,
for to follow is our fate.
Friend, should Malcyon take
Death and raise her higher—--
wisdom will flourish, though we pain-ache,
and ever our spirits burn in fire,
so fire our spirit-slake.
Love, for Malcyon fake,
come swift, hither and thither,
rapt with nurturing tones, take us and shake—--
for when numbed, we’ll wither
upon transgression lake.
Lord, as Malcyon, learn
We shall to kill and burn and brand—--
For She will kill and She will burn,
and if unsolvingly we stand,
She shall stand, our Sovereign.
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