Pause on the bridge where Nietzsche paused perhaps,
Rapt in delight as you behold,
Leaning on iron rails or stone,
The winter sun gilding the Salute.

Reflect, here wept a man who knew
Beauty's merciless torture, and rejoiced…

And can you weep
While all these ignorant millions sleep,
And let the sunset hour go by
Without some terrible cry
To wake the dead or make the living sigh?