Doffing a mask to don a crown
That soon may roll upon the ground
As who sit in power bow them down
To others who, of less renown,
Stand in city and in town,
Heeding not who wear the gown
But bid their pockets lined.
Sure, the sight will catch the breath
Of many, and another Seth
Will rise as a new Abel’s death
Will make Cain’s sin a shibboleth,
And we are all akin.