Hasty hymns and praises proudly said
Echo hollow in our cultured caves,
For heroes may not rise among the dead
When genius lies asleep in unmarked graves.
Curses and opprobrium declared
Are late-surviving shadows on the land,
When time and opportunity have spared
A sleepy world from a calmer killer’s hand.
And I with lazy heart and health
Dare wish no justice for my many harms,
For good I might have done with wealth
Or evil with but barely stronger arms.