True one's life through—O, miraculous burden!
Princely preserve—in a commonplace age!
Hearts that are steadfast, ribs that are sturdy,—
Where are you, people of bygone days?!

Licence rides loose like a red-haired Tatar,
Levelling altar and throne to dust.
Over the ashes—ribald deserters
Revel with wives who have broken trust.

29 March 1918