How I love Thee, oh Stately King
The worlds seen from Thy peak.
Beneath Thee, Thy black Princes' tor
Gather by the valleys for war.

It, the breath of Heather Blossoms
Stain the rocks with liquid crimson;
The Princes reign above the lot
Of men, who upon earth, the gods

They have all stopped believing in.
Thus, Mount where the Nard Flower's sin
Had grown, and the harlot's love washed
Thy foot, Thy fragrant soils soft,---

Thy Statehood beams upon the breadth
Of all worlds and cloudy hex.
Thy peak is worshiped for its height;
Princes beneath Thee ready fight;

And the steeples of thy Welkin
Ring, for Thou art the very vault in
View of those who see Thy splendor;
And raiment of the Prisms wore

Thou upon kneck and ivory knape---
The sash of Thy Kinghood---irate
That the very dogs Thou wished good
Sought to steal from we poor our food.

Neifert, B. K.. My Collected Writings. Kindle Direct, (C)2021. pp. 198.