The pattern of stanzas, by the way, follows a well known hymn - "Glorious Things of Thee are Spoken", and to some extent it is a dark mirror of that hymn, a prophetic blast against triumphalism.
Desolation
Listen, the softest word is spoken
Of a turning on that other road
Crumbling, fragmented, broken
To ruins desolate, lost abode
Once a mighty empire founded
Of peace, calm and sweet repose
Until one say it came surrounded
Army of fell warriors, deadly foes
Time has flown away like waters
Wearing away in river’s groove
Generations, all sons and daughters
Time comes take, to all remove
The once mighty flowing river
Dry banks, and thirst to assuage
Once was life, now death the giver
Falling, breaking, every age
Fleeting clouds, white and hovering
Thunder, cloud, and fire appear
In their glory, in their covering
Change and decay is very near
Armies marching under banner
Light by night and shade by day,
On to fight, so cold their manner
Footsteps on destructions way
Now besieged, eternal city
Dancing in the burning flame
Crying out for desperate pity
Glory falling in her name
Reflections are the saddest pleasures,
Of all past city’s pomp and show;
Justice, peace are lasting treasures
That is truth that all should know.
Desolation
Listen, the softest word is spoken
Of a turning on that other road
Crumbling, fragmented, broken
To ruins desolate, lost abode
Once a mighty empire founded
Of peace, calm and sweet repose
Until one say it came surrounded
Army of fell warriors, deadly foes
Time has flown away like waters
Wearing away in river’s groove
Generations, all sons and daughters
Time comes take, to all remove
The once mighty flowing river
Dry banks, and thirst to assuage
Once was life, now death the giver
Falling, breaking, every age
Fleeting clouds, white and hovering
Thunder, cloud, and fire appear
In their glory, in their covering
Change and decay is very near
Armies marching under banner
Light by night and shade by day,
On to fight, so cold their manner
Footsteps on destructions way
Now besieged, eternal city
Dancing in the burning flame
Crying out for desperate pity
Glory falling in her name
Reflections are the saddest pleasures,
Of all past city’s pomp and show;
Justice, peace are lasting treasures
That is truth that all should know.
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