Gone! Gone! The works of Man!

Returned to dust, where they began!

Washed low by wave and dripping rain!

Bare, cold stone where bones were lain!

Color stripp'd by desert sand and storm!

By what cruel fate does this transform,

From lively people and busy city

To sorry rubble and things of pity?

It is natural law, unbreakable, enthroned

Master of all, even Man is owned

It is a difficult lord

Whose whims flash out, reaping like a sword.

So Man's attempts at the sky are leveled

And cast askew are the edges so carefully beveled 

In a future of ice and fire

Fate turns on Man, and casts to ruin his empire!