Out of the earth sprung the knights,
driving the chariots of peace.
They smiled in the morning
and laugh to-night;
a soul-breathing songs.
To seek pleasure
in vengeance and hate,
to serve a plat du jour of shit,
never was their dream.
They move with passion
and speak so gentle;
a paradise still on earth.
What a region of dream
and course of such!
Winter frost their blood.
As dry as dust
They exist no more.
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