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The Twentieth Century

                      I evoke the ancient grail
                      Which precedes the riddle of time
                      And how the hours fail
                      To question the mysteries of rhyme

                      I evoke the virgin's blood
                      Spilled by the warrior' craft
                      Who watched the primal flood
                      Water the autumn shaft

                      And how the dreams of the daughters
                      Nurture their mother's fears
                      As calves to the slaughter
                      Sons fall upon their spears

                      And how computers to their suitors
                      Their dowry did bestow
                      To the lords of demon looters
                      Who dance on the stolen soul