Primitive

Pristine fanes under our great emprean
Sinister saint acroliths, not so commonly seen
But still perpetual concord, and impeccability
The placid terra firma not inquiring what it sees
A docile zephyr wafting so taciturn
Inanimate is immortal, all would yearn
Museing absent our dreary somber vitality
Off into the primative and pristine terra firma