An Aureate Crown

A meadow of bliss! Flowers of spark,
flowers of luster, flowers of dream.
Gleaming sunbeams make their mark,
as they mutilate bleached clouds in team.

By a roaring river and on tumbling hills,
A land soaked in Eirene's peace.
Majesty: with all colossal power to fill,
makes certain that all strife's cease.

All strife's, but that of one man,
the man in the house that sits on high.
Cure his sterile heart? Nobody can -
It has been forever blackened by his lie.

The beauty and the majesty, what is it worth,
When in a haze of awful penance, you lie and drown?
The flowers soon become barbed sin in the turf,
while the man in the house, endures sin as his crown.