Date: December 18th, 2014 6:52 PM
Author: Sable coiffed filthpig philosopher-king
There lies the office; the weekend guard nod in recognition
and the war desk thrums with idle potency.
There gleam the litigators' swords. My teams,
Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me--
That ever with a ready "thanks" took
The deposition and the motion, and opposed
Bold litigators, zealous representatives--you and I are weary;
Weariness hath yet its honour and its toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Justice.