The Catholic Monarchist's Lament

— to Denis Diderot

When that last king is strangled

With the guts of that last priest

Then who will stay the whip-hand?

They talked of law and love, at least

(However much they mangled

The charge left in their care)

If God’s a deaf and dumb thing

And the hungry masses, kings

Then our spires sink in quicksand

And the stupid poet sings

To tell us we are something

More than spleen and hide and hair