the wooden sheathing of the station by iron staples without

These caverns are their dwelling-place.

The Moon-Worms, serpents of the skies,

From the great hollows of her eyes

Behold all souls, and they are wise:

Behold how each man sins and dies.

When Earth in gold-corruption lies

Long dead, the moon-worm butterflies

On cyclone wings will reach this place --