Old Lord Saturn

Under the dominance of the planets

A sheer and empty wraith transposes

Melodies by gods with sandalled feet and crowns of roses

A night-time shore that aligns with Mars

A wind blown swiftly past the virtuous stars

Cause him to look, and often to listen

Often he waits, to hear his mission

Yet no sound of courtesy or gentle vibration plays

Upon him not to a higher station raised

There are limits, my friend, sayeth a voice that burns

The only word in years from the old Lord Saturn