POPULUS
There are patterns that live not in time,
But in nebulae and ammonite the same,
Manifest an harmonious chime,
In forms do play an archetypal game.
The many manifest the One,
Each seed that dies brings shoots anew,
Like old Osiris in his tomb,
Brings forth the corn to show.
What spirit makes English reserve?
Or the Spangled Banner loud?
And gives the soldier battle nerve?
And makes the German proud?
This spirit that makes the many unite,
That builds pyramids and Nation states,
Brings order too and men to fight,
And gives presidents and shopkeepers place.
