Gone! Gone! The works of Man!
Returned to dust, where they began!
Washed low by wave and dripping rain!
Bare, cold stone where bones were lain!
Color stripp'd by desert sand and storm!
By what cruel fate does this transform,
From lively people and busy city
To sorry rubble and things of pity?
It is natural law, unbreakable, enthroned
Master of all, even Man is owned
It is a difficult lord
Whose whims flash out, reaping like a sword.
So Man's attempts at the sky are leveled
And cast askew are the edges so carefully beveled
In a future of ice and fire
Fate turns on Man, and casts to ruin his empire!