Page:The town down the river; a book of poems.djvu/44

 —So be it, and the way be as of old: So be the weary truth again retold Of great kings overthrown Because they would be kings, and lastly kings alone. Fling to each dog his bone.

Flags that are vanished, flags that are soiled and furled, Say what will be the word when I am gone: What learned little acrid archive men Will burrow to find me out and burrow again,— But all for naught, unless To find there was another Island. . . Yes, There are too many islands in this world, There are too many rats, and there is too much rain. So three things are made plain Between the sea and sky: