By what right doth thou trespass here?
This land is no longer thine to tread
Thou hath relinquished thy hold on this,
Yet still thou standeth here, as though sanctioned.
This Eden is lost to thee, and swords of flame protect
The Garden within, and within thou hath nothing.
So, leper, begone, and waste not what is mine,
For thou hath no longer a sufficient claim.
Fly free, dear doves, lest the leprosy spread
From leper to thee; to living from dead.
Be mine eyes so I can know the terrain below,
And catch those who trespass on this land.
Alert the scavengers, to prepare the feast–
For the leper hath burned its material title
And only within this Garden might a cure have been found
Though now that wretch is banned from my ground.