Bleak hostile sky is clothed with hoar,
Waves seize our humble ark.
Grey wind rends staysail at the fore
And makes lighthouses gaze no more
Into the dark.
Vain prayers quiver with false guilt
Like coward's shibboleth.
We hark how storm roars atilt,
And fragile wall of board, like shield,
Postpones our death.
Our vessel merely is a fleck
That sullen sea will lave;
Black downpour rattles on the deck
As clods of soil would ghastly peck
Our aspen grave.
Relentless lot will oust weak soul
In miserable spasm.
No god above, nor hell below
And heaven's promised afterglow
In face of chasm.
Lives that you waste, used to berate -
These lives you do not earn.
We hate you all and swear all faiths:
By any means, as shades or wraiths,