Phoebus Apollo
But we, the few and the faithful, we are weary of wars unjust,
There is left no god of our thousand gods that we love, be- lieve, or trust ;
In our courts is justice scoffed at, in our senates gold has sway,
And the deeds of our priests and preachers make mock of the words they say !
Cardinals, kings, and captains, there is left none fit to reign:
Hear us, Phoebus Apollo, and come to thine own again !
We have hearkened to creeds unnumbered, we have given
them trial and test, And the creed of thy Delphic temple is still of them all the
best ; Thy clean-limbed, lithe disciples, slender, and strong, and
young, The swing of their long processions, the lilt of the songs
they sung,
Thine own majestic presence, pursuing the nymph of dawn, In thy chariot eastward blazing, by the swans and griffons
drawn;
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