Chapter III

Beside the city that once lived there wound
A stream of putrefaction writhing black;
Reflecting crumbling spires stuck in the ground
That glow through hov'ring mist whence no stray track
Can lead to those dead gates, where once was found
The secret that would bring the dwellers back.
And still that pitch-black current eddies by
Those silver gates of Yith to sea-beds dry.