"I promise thee all joyous things,
That furnish forth the lives of Kings
For every silver ringing blow
Cities and palaces shall grow!"
Bite deep and wide, O Axe, the tree,
Tell wider prophecies to me.
"When rust hath gnawed me deep and red,
A nation strong shall lift its head!
His crown the very heavens shall smite,
Æons shall build him in his might!"