And I fear Fenrir is loosed, And that Jörmungandr heaves In our day, And Hel cries clarion The call to war; I feel the air thick With the boasts of men Of petty stature, Their deeds Writ large in cruelty Their currency In blood. All this I fear, Yet hope hems the shade With fragrant hue, That were all to fall this day And ruins loom large Against skies darkened By folly‘s whim, I would see beyond To the coming dawn.