O bubble blown on rotting seas of Crime!
Wan iridescence ’gendered of Decay,
Ignis fatuus whose fallacious ray
Dances a dance of death above the slime —
Beneath you lie the promises of Time,
The power, the pride, the hope of yesterday —
Magnificence of nations passed away
Like phantom puppets of forgotten mime.
What legioned valour beating bars of breath
Has stifled in your dungeons of Dismay !
What love shall sit in darkness for your sake
Till Hate no seas of sophistry shall slake
Shall sweep your tainted loveliness away,
O bubble blown from bloated lips of Death!
Marie E. J. Pitt, The Horses of the Hills and Other Verses, Melbourne: Specialty Press, 1911, page 85