Let us pull the heavens down.
Let it lie upon the ground.
Let us stare and stammer down,
lumber1 some new sound.
Let us, with splendored crown
laid upon our laureled brow,
take up towering tower;
make this our mighting2 hour.
Then He’ll know we are greater
than our sum,
Then He’ll see a greater we.
thunder from a burnished sky.
Take conference with you and we.
Take no umbrage that we did not flee.
Take no pains at spired crescent valley.
Take no anguish at this our pillared city.
Take He then long and quiet slumber.
Take He then waiting and no cumber3.
Take He time while tower and number
take foot and city spread.
© rl busséll 2018