[BNP/E3, 79 – 38-39]

Nature

Reared[1] on a pile of skulls its hideous monument.

_______

The hideous turmoil of a fight.

                      A horde

{…} sword

_______

{…} good

{…} unloved, ununderstood

And good and truth and beauty do not need

A God to resume their seed {…}

In the human heart {…}

[39^r]

A flight for life {…}

A fearful strife with death with sureness of defeat.

{…} no light {…}

So e’en I loved my heart to love was closed

{…} expect return

{…} love not men mourn

A light that driveth, not a fire that doth burn.

Bringing with me the memory

They call one mad. I am but wild

‘tis the same thing {…} and free

I breathe, I feel, I live, yet am a strange here.

{…} descend {…}

[1] Reared^/s\