The Ex-Living One
Brutus, where is your Cassius true,
The watchman who used to stroll
By the Seine and call the hours with you,
While soul communed with soul?
How often you turned your heavenward gaze
On the dark clouds drifting by;
But your hearts held thoughts in those olden days
More dark than the cloudy sky.
Brutus, where is your Cassius now?
On murder he thinks no more,
He reads to a tyrant and fawns, I trow
With the best, on the Neckar's shore.
Quoth Brutus, " You poets are dull indeed,
And compounded of folly purely;
My Cassius, 'tis true, to a tyrant may read,
But only to kill him more surely.
" He reads him our Matzerath's famous works,
Nor better could use his breath,
For in every line a dagger lurks,
That must bore the tyrant to death. "
The watchman who used to stroll
By the Seine and call the hours with you,
While soul communed with soul?
How often you turned your heavenward gaze
On the dark clouds drifting by;
But your hearts held thoughts in those olden days
More dark than the cloudy sky.
Brutus, where is your Cassius now?
On murder he thinks no more,
He reads to a tyrant and fawns, I trow
With the best, on the Neckar's shore.
Quoth Brutus, " You poets are dull indeed,
And compounded of folly purely;
My Cassius, 'tis true, to a tyrant may read,
But only to kill him more surely.
" He reads him our Matzerath's famous works,
Nor better could use his breath,
For in every line a dagger lurks,
That must bore the tyrant to death. "
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