See there, what are those pestilent that smother
In the muck? And there, I see, ignored
Within the mire, more are stuck; and Lord!
Behold, one bunches up to bid another
Well! Though unobtrusively, its brother
It disdains with such a tell. With bored
Enthusiasm, one will slither toward
A wretched thing as if to give the other
An award. But lo! What it intends!
Now can it actually be, to grant
The other honours and a meaningless Degree? How sweet, if my corrupted friends
Would slyly acquiesce, to grant me scanty
Honours with an automatic yes.
And who are these who rape my Gods when long
They have returned to ash, and dust, and bone?
No right have these to slash Them, cruelly thrown
And bleeding, from the Heights where They belong.
And who are these ignoble beasts; this throng,
Who mutilate and rape Them, unbeknown,
Then take their turn upon each vacant Throne,
While still They fall, unknowing, from this wrong?
Do these believe their acts are in the right;
As though belief could claim to sanction rape?
Do these take carnal pleasure in the night,
While horrified Their past devoted gape?
Or do these quake with fear, while knowing well,
Their lie alone will have them burn in Hell?