On the wings of words.
Spread them bravely, fly the town, sell
All you have for this one counsel:
Sing and never mind the groundsel!
Come, we too are birds."
Thereat the conclave fluttered and flew out,
And I have heard them on the Persian roads,
In half-dead cities. History repeats
Nothing except the rose. But Persians say
This was the last they heard of government.