Ezra Pound - The Rest lyrics

O helpless few in my country, remnant enslaved! Artists broken against her, A-stray, lost in the villages, Mistrusted, spoken-against, Lovers of beauty, starved, Thwarted with systems, Helpless against the control; You who can not wear yourselves out By persisting to successes, You who can only speak, Who can not steel yourselves into reiteration; You of the finer sense, Broken against false knowledge, You who can know at first hand, Hated, shut in, mistrusted: Take thought: I have weathered the storm, I have beaten out my exile