18.04.2012, 20:14
Peace the Destroyer
Nay, of that phantom peace let no man prate,
The mock of all the gods, the spoil of time,
The lure-light beckoning childhood's heart sublime,
The poppied dream of all the fools of fate;
Nor ours be yonder peace of fraud and hate,
The foetid growth of Mammon's greed and crime
That spawns and quickens in its country's slime,
And battens on her dead and rotting state.
What God shall shear those cankered blooms of ease
That rot the Race, and all our manhood stain
With foul red blight of all things brave and just,
As festers downward through the palsied knees,
And up through bone and marrow to the brain
The red disease which is the flower of lust?
Nay, of that phantom peace let no man prate,
The mock of all the gods, the spoil of time,
The lure-light beckoning childhood's heart sublime,
The poppied dream of all the fools of fate;
Nor ours be yonder peace of fraud and hate,
The foetid growth of Mammon's greed and crime
That spawns and quickens in its country's slime,
And battens on her dead and rotting state.
What God shall shear those cankered blooms of ease
That rot the Race, and all our manhood stain
With foul red blight of all things brave and just,
As festers downward through the palsied knees,
And up through bone and marrow to the brain
The red disease which is the flower of lust?