The Procession of Prisoners.
Blissful to sleep ’neath the blood-reeking sod;
Blissful to wake in the gardens of God.
The Procession of Apollo.
Gladsome ’mid incense-clouds still to draw breath.
The Procession of Prisoners.
Blissful in blood-streams to strangle to death.
The Procession of Apollo.
Ever for him who his godhead adoreth
Deep draughts of rapture Apollo outpoureth.