To rob them of their power and their will.
It was as though o'er all the city's gates all hope
Of fruitful work left those, who entered there;
It was a piteous thing to see the ebb
Of energy and zeal, to mark the growth
Of passive rust on minds, that once were keen.
As pebbles taken from the running brook
Lose all their brightness 'neath th' insidious moss,
So, 'neath the flagstaffs of the greatest powers,
In men (who loved these flags for all they told