Silently. The edifice of an age, shuffling, falls;
The wrecker Time is about the staring walls.
The upturned faces of people in the street
Silently, without comment, the same tale repeat,
The broken stone of a once most noble hope,
Serrated like a discarded envelope,
Grope, by a haggard staircase to the upper air
To find a landing now no longer there.
Behind a tottering wall the reappears
A faint display of outworn panaceas-
Vestigial remnants of Man's credulity,
Mutely stuttering some past hyperbole.
Windows that none can see through any more,
Give light to nothingness without a floor:
While the roof girders grin across the sky,
Silently screaming to heaven, "Crucify!'