(1914)
EACH nation as it draws the sword And flings its standard to the air Petitions piously the Lord--Vexing the void abyss with prayer.
O irony too deep for mirth!
O posturing apes that rant, and dare This antic attitude! O Earth, With your wild jest of wicked prayer!
I dare not laugh . . . a rising swell Of laughter breaks in shrieks somewhere--No doubt they relish it in Hell, This cosmic jest of Earth at prayer!
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