On march the banners of the King of Hell.
On march the banners of the King of Hell.
Nature craves love, and then creates love king,
and makes the heart a palace where he'll stay,
perhaps a shorter or a longer day,
breathing quietly, gently slumbering.
Here we see hypocrites, plodding forever around in their circle And now we saw a people decked with paint, Who trod their circling way with tear and groan And slow, slow steps, seeming subdued and faint They all wore cloaks, with deep hoods forward thrown Over their eyes, and shaped in fashion quite Like the great cowls the monks wear at Cologne Outwardly they were gilded dazzling bright, But all within was lead, and weighed thereby, King Frederick's copes would have seemed feather-light. O weary mantle for eternity Once more we turned to the left, and by their side Paced on, intent upon their mournful cry.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories