Does the road wind downhill all the way?
   Yes, to the very end.
Will the dread journey take every day?
   Yes, all your nightmares send.

At night, can leaders find no resting place,
   To shelter in when my phantoms begin?
Cannot the darkness hide me from their face?
   No, star-shells light your grin.

Shall I meet other warmongers at night,
   Killers who've gone before?
With them must I knock, or call when in sight?
   Though you tremble and choke,
                                            you'll pass that door.

Shall I find refuge though guilty and weak?
   True Labour shall tell o'er your sum.
Will History give the place that I seek?
   Yea, doom and certain to come.

                    (Apologies to Christina Rossetti.)