‘Babylon, O Babylon’

Babylon, O Babylon,

what aileth thee?

Mourn thou thy children,

smothered in the grave?

Raise now thy boast

to which great nations served at your behest.

Raise thou thy children

in a day of great rejoicing.

Sit,

thou harlot of harlots,

against the stony bank of the great Euphrates,

skirts around you,

scattered in the dust.

Dwell amidst thy sorrow,

cast upon thy face.

Count thy stones. O Babylon,

you fumble ‘mongst the worms;

you heave your heart in twain;

you struggle ‘neath the weight that comes upon you,

hiding you forever,

cutting off your reign upon the earth.