Israel's Brief Moment In The Sun Will End

“Is there a RACE left in England? Has it ANY will left to survive? You can carry slaughter to Ireland. Will that save you? I doubt it. Nothing can save you, save a purge. Nothing can save you, save an affirmation that you are English. 

Whore Belisha is NOT. Isaccs is not. No Sassoon is an Englishman, racially. No Rothschild is English, no Strakosch is English, no Roosevelt is English, no Baruch, Morgenthau, Cohen, Lehman, Warburg, Kuhn, Khan, Baruch, Schiff, Sieff, or Solomon was ever yet born Anglo-Saxon. 

And it is for this filth that you fight. It is for this filth that you have murdered your empire, and it is this filth that elects your politicians. 

You have lost your tradition. You have not even learned what Lord Byron told you. You are, as even that foul rag the Times tells you, a little late in making a start. 

In the year 1942 Anno Domini, there is only one start you can make. And that is a start toward being England. A refusal to be a province of Israel, or an outpost of Yankee-Judaea.” – Ezra Pound, March 15, 1942.

“He who deeply considers, with wise thoughts,

this foundation and this dark life,

old in spirit, often remembers

so many ancient slaughters, and says these words:

‘Where has the horse gone? where is the rider? where is the giver of gold?

Where are the seats of the feast? where are the joys of the hall?

O the bright cup! O the brave warrior!

O the glory of princes! How the time passed away, 

slipped into nightfall as if it had never been!

There still stands in the path of the dear warriors

a wall wondrously high, with serpentine stains.

A storm of spears took away the warriors,

bloodthirsty weapons, wyrd the mighty, 

and storms batter these stone walls,

frost falling binds up the earth,

the howl of winter, when blackness comes,

night’s shadow looms, sends down from the north

harsh hailstones in hatred of men. 

All is toilsome in the earthly kingdom,

the working of wyrd changes the world under heaven.

Here wealth is fleeting, here friends are fleeting,

here man is fleeting, here woman is fleeting,

all the framework of this earth will stand empty.’” – The Wanderer.