When loss of faith engendered virtue’s failing,
and yawning gaps appeared in mankind’s hope,
bemoaning heroes lost, we took to wailing,
– foundations crumbled – left, in shame, to grope.
Our elders fell to traps laid for the weary
by Malice, who would strip of dignity
the Fight – from which (if lost) the hero, leery,
would cast aside his sole affinity.
My God, was Wren a Mob, or Bach a Crowd?
One William’s Words not Worth the wait?
Carlyle faltered on the “Great Man”, Proud,
who holds against the swarming freight?
No, Virtue’s only home is in A Man;
with single Knights, we bridge the span.

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