Anarchy
I
saw
a
city
filled
with
lust
and
shame,
Where
men,
like
wolves,
slunk
through
the
grim
half-light;
And
sudden,
in
the
midst
of
it,
there
came
One
who
spoke
boldly
for
the
cause
of
Right.
And
speaking,
fell
before
that
brutish
race
Like
some
poor
wren
that
shrieking
eagles
tear,
While
brute
Dishonour,
with
her
bloodless
face
Stood
by
and
smote
his
lips
that
moved
in
prayer.
"Speak
not
of
God!
In
centuries
that
word
Hath
not
been
uttered!
Our
own
king
are
we."
And
God
stretched
forth
his
finger
as
He
heard
And
o'er
it
cast
a
thousand
leagues
of
sea.
