Never until the mankind making

　　Bird beast and flower

　　Fathering and all humbling darkness

　　Tells with silence the last light breaking

　　And the still hour

　　Is come of the sea tumbling in harness

　　And I must enter again the round

　　Zion of the water bead

　　And the synagogue of the ear of corn

　　Shall I let pray the shadow of a sound

　　Or sow my salt seed

　　In the least valley of sackcloth to mourn

　　The majesty and burning of the child's death.

　　I shall not murder

　　The mankind of her going with a grave truth

　　Nor blaspheme down the stations of the breath

　　With any further

　　Elegy of innocence and youth.

　　Deep with the first dead lies London's daughter，

　　Robed in the long friends，

　　The grains beyond age， the dark veins of her mother，

　　Secret by the unmourning water

　　Of the riding Thames.

　　After the first death， there is no other.