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In violet few

These are the days of the patriarch For serenity knew Lifetimes of literature and praise Smacking of hierarchy Only the sullen pray And here on account, a sundial for the weary If this is our code, we have won the atmosphere And a battle of only a little while, is over- and underwater A place to carol In time we are deep And free of the supposed past That aches for our dawn Opposed to the entry trail Suppositioned in ruin But Rome is made vulgar In essence the House Sparrow Which makes tragic news While we wave to be livid And in this archway to the movement Eucharist is our way And nothing else but the clouds Minions of form And only the anachronistic Would seek for our record Of taking up these resources Defending your rights Discovering news Upper to the smoke of wayside And hearing every ruse From Kingston to Rallye And proportions to Will These are the appeals In no sacristy alone But our welcome clergy In rightful peace Opposing all war And noticing in full Eleven redeemed And simple prophet- Leo.