A Rattlesnake Sings in the Grass
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Hymn of Hatred
Lift not for me your sibilant refrain:
Less deadly venom slavers from your fangs
Than courses fiercely in my every vein.
But I would see walled cities crash and reel,
Gray-bearded sages blown from cannon-mouths,
And infants spitted on the reddened steel.
The foaming oceans break their brimming bowl –
Oh, universal ruin would not serve
To glut the fury of my maddened soul!
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