If stars are lit with an unearthly glow,
And rid the sky of everlasting pain;
Fall down to bless the lands like heaven’s snow,
And give the people promise once again.
When stars slip from the oceans up above,
And skies alight with hues of red and gold;
Flames rise like songs that spill from sacred doves,
And bring the day that prophets once foretold.
And as the great brute swamps the earth at last,
The children flee like ants into their home.
A final flag is waving on its mast,
And with it brings the mighty fall of Rome.
And cannons rage against the starless night-
Those sacred doves have made their final flight.
