Tread high peaks Hidden gold Insult draws sword Blood drips from cord Foul, thirst quenched O' crimson sate Then roasted heart Flesh to partake Lo! That speech of which I hear Of larks, Nuthatches, sky dwellers Their intent made clear to me Nothing stands obscured Whispers to wind A breath A cut A wound Drank of his blood Ate of his heart There he sits With corpse defiled Lo! That speech of which I hear Of larks, Nuthatches, sky dwellers Their intent made clear to me Nothing stands obscured