If They Must Come, Let Them!

I have seen the bitter struggle
From the rose of white and red
From the living and the dead
I have seen the vulgar struggle

Who are these that rise like serpents
Killing children of my servants
These are they whom, like the flower,
Bloom in spring with flame and power

These who sign your peace and letters
Filled with indignation's feathers
They who soar by moon and star
Far from me but not afar

These are they whom kiss their idols
"Tell us! What shall come to pass"
I shall give no answers ever
Nor shall sweetly words amass

I shall be as rocks endangered
It shall be as times before
Man shall give a man in marriage
Virtue shall be but a whore

They have all despised my efforts
They have clinged to wood and stone
Men, like chaff, have kindled anger
Flesh is worth its weight in bone

These are they with jewels of iron
Chains of gold adorn their hairs
They have turned aside in malice
With their hands have killed my heirs

With their throat they worship nothing
Works of death they practice all
Woe to them when light exposes
Woe to them, how great their fall!

I have seen the bitter struggle
Yes and still they conquer me
They are not though here their rubble
Runs as swiftly as the sea

By their hands my indignation
Kindled as the flames of winter
From their wood they have no nation
Watch their hands for thorns and splinter

I have seen, he clearly sees
The land, the seen and unknown seas
The dying and the living trees
The luxury of busy bees
And they whom shall belong to these