We are too much of this world, then and now,Trading birthrights for messes of pottage;Forsaking true intercourse for frottage,Dominion lost in domination’s dow!The sea of glass churned by earth-tiller’s plough,Crystal no more but occluded by flotage;Vision enclosed by walls of man’s plottage,We labor in vain and strain for the soughOf good news. – Rise up! …
Gregory Hake 