the fraction of the truth that now remains
within the bounds of what we are to speak
is current language words sodden and weak
lacking in power nothing now explains
the meaning of the anguish and the pains
that each had taken before these grey bleak
crowds of oppression forbade us to seek
the honest answers upon hills or plains
a light at noon would show no honest folk
in any corner of a world grown wild
with deepest passion of forgotten art
needing desire and raging for the yoke
to be laid on each grown person a child
once more but coals of hope burn in each heart