He made his earth, and scaled his lofty sky;
He spread abroad his universal sea;
He climbed his visioned mountains, towering high,
The cause and course of Wisdom he’d decree.
’Gainst man’s accurst and weary, ill-formed world,
All rent apart by fools and their divisions,
His burning anathemas he ever hurled,
His direst doom, and his divine decisions.
No other man, through years and cycles run,
Was bold enough to say: “God is dead”;
Of all great men, philosopher but one,
Thyself, alone, and madness seized thy head!
O thou, most blatant babbler, Friedrich Nietzsche,
How thou didst snuffle—how thou didst sneeze thee!