Murmers In The Gloom

(NOCTURNE)

I wayfared at the nadir of the sun
Where populations meet, though seen of none;
   And millions seemed to sigh around
   As though their haunts were nigh around,
   And unknown throngs to cry around
      Of things late done.
"O Seers, who well might high ensample show"
(Came throbbing past in plainsong small and slow),
   "Leaders who lead us aimlessly,
   Teachers who train us shamelessly,
   Why let ye smoulder flamelessly
      The truths ye trow?
"Ye scribes, that urge the old medicament,
Whose fusty vials have long dried impotent,
   Why prop ye meretricious things,
   Denounce the sane as vicious things,
   And call outworn factitious things
      Expedient?
"O Dynasties that sway and shake us so,
Why rank your magnanimities so low
   That grace can smooth no waters yet,
   But breathing threats and slaughters yet
   Ye grieve Earth's sons and daughters yet
      As long ago?
"Live there no heedful ones of searching sight,
Whose accents might be oracles that smite
   To hinder those who frowardly
   Conduct us, and untowardly;
   To lead the nations vawardly
      From gloom to light?"