To the Rulers
When you've fulfilled the measure of your pride
And your starved honour has been satisfied,
Some plowman, driving deep his lusty share,
Will strike a skull to sunlight, unaware, —
One naked skull to stare up at the sky
And shake your kingdoms with its irony!
And your starved honour has been satisfied,
Some plowman, driving deep his lusty share,
Will strike a skull to sunlight, unaware, —
One naked skull to stare up at the sky
And shake your kingdoms with its irony!
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