To Unknown Place

If you, of yourself, have no right
To live, but to a deathing State of Night
Must give your wealth, property, the all
Of all you are—your life, your happiness,
So evil enemies of breath, too, die,
One single minute past your passing fall,
Him lying in his self-wrought ugliness,
You in grave with yet your beauty’s eye;
If such as this be state of modern man,
If this be education’s government;
If progress, which from reason’s worth began,
Is so regressed e’en ignorants resent,
Then strike I out the hands of swinging time
To leave lost lands the capital of crime.

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