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<h2>Nietzsche</h2> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> In the silence of the night-time Startled, we can hear a murmur As of someone tapping, tapping, Tapping at the breasts of idols With an auscultating hammer, Sounding all their hollow vitals As they helplessly endeavour To evade with vain pretences Or atone: Yes, we hear the distant thunder Of an earthquake that convulses; Poor old Mother Earth is shaken, Sorely tried and whirled asunder, Shaken by a fierce invader; Where grim and slow you creep below, Digging, digging, digging deep, Troglodyte, untiring miner All alone! As you climb upon the mountains, Glaciers, icy precipices, Toward the lonely lightning-blasted Peak that towers above in silence, Plunging into deep crevasses Where the frozen water falls: Monotone: And at last we wake from nightmare— Wake, to find ourselves denuded [10]Naked, lonesome, 'mid our fellows Lacking father, wife, or mother, Lacking neighbour, child or brother: All disown. Still our eyes are fixed steadfastly Where you soar above the heavens, Spurning with your mighty pinions Countless deities and angels, Shattering our fondest visions With your own: Ever on your knees you creep, Where the way is wild and steep. Digging, digging, digging deep, Whilst the priests and idols weep. [11]</div> </div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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