May the bright growth and vernal br Shrivel like a rind within your hand br Your springtime years be desert br Midst the hiss of drifting sand br Your virgin seed lie scattered br Midst the low-life and the damned br And your homes fall to invaders, one by one br br May the sultry suns and humid br Lurk like vagrant gypsies in your eyes br Your summer years be cheerless br Midst the plaint of peacock cries br Your orchards all lie plundered br Midst the drone of gorging flies br And your servants turn to thieving, one by one br br May the high winds and mighty br Cry like new-found widows round your eaves br Your autumn years be desolate br Midst the smoke of burning leaves br Your harvest lands lie barren br Midst the ache of absent sheaves br And your women lie with strangers, one by one br br May the cold snows and bitter br Lie like frozen pilgrims at your door br Your winter years be empty br Midst the armies of the poor br Your cattle all lie slaughtered br Midst the hordes of tooth and claw br And your children die in violence, one by onebr br John Mark Williamsbr br