Here lies the dead king, so long was buried,
He conquered the world! Gone! But no one mourns,
Men spoke, 'The empire is dull and bores me.'
They left and sundered, and made their own lords.
He pled, 'Listen to me! We are strong!
We were small together, but we have won,
We have conquered. Let us triumph, let us love!'
He loved them, they loathed him--king, a despot!
They struggled mountains to the Empire's crown,
Perfect thoughts divine to it! Their eyes raised,
No beauty! Imperfect! Pilgrims appalled--
He was false! Effort wasted! Pushed and slain!
They came for him, once friends, now undeceived,
The people dreamed, and so was slain the king.
