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Page 17 - O masters, lords and rulers in all lands, Is this the handiwork you give to God, This monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched? How will you ever straighten up this shape ; Touch it again with immortality; Give back the upward looking and the light ; Rebuild in it the music and the dream; Make right the immemorial infamies, Perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes?
Page 17 - O masters, lords, and rulers in all lands, How will the Future reckon with this Man? How answer his brute question in that hour When whirlwinds of rebellion shake all shores? How will it be with kingdoms and with kings — With those who shaped him to the thing he is — When this dumb Terror shall rise to judge the world, After the silence of the centuries?
Page 21 - The crest and crowning of all good, Life's final star is brotherhood, For it will bring again to earth Her long-lost poesy and mirth ; Will send new light on every face, A kingly power upon the race. And till it come, we men are slaves, And travel downward to the dust of graves.
Page 15 - God made man in His own image, in the image of God made He him." — Genesis. Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground, The emptiness of ages in his face, And on his back the burden of the world. Who made him dead to rapture and despair, A thing that grieves not and that never hopes, Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox?
Page 92 - THE INVISIBLE BRIDE THE low-voiced girls that go In gardens of the Lord, Like flowers of the field they grow In sisterly accord. Their whispering feet are white Along the leafy ways; They go in whirls of light Too beautiful for praise. And in their band forsooth Is one to set me free— The one that touched my youth— The one God gave to me. She kindles the desire Whereby the gods survive— The white ideal fire That keeps my soul alive. Now at the wondrous hour, She leaves her star supreme, And...
Page 19 - With all her mourning doves about her head, Sat rocking on an ancient road of Hell, Withered and eyeless, chanting to the moon Snatches of song they sang to her of old Upon the lighted roofs of Nineveh. And then her voice rang out with rattling laugh: "The bugles! they are crying back again — Bugles that broke the nights of Babylon, And then went crying on through Nineveh.
Page 16 - Down all the caverns of Hell to their last gulf There is no shape more terrible than this — More tongued with censure of the world's blind greed — More filled with signs and portents for the soul — More packt with danger to the universe.
Page 21 - Come, clear the way, then, clear the way: Blind creeds and kings have had their day. Break the dead branches from the path: Our hope is in the aftermath — Our hope is in heroic men, Star-led to build the world again. To this event the ages ran: Make way for Brotherhood — make way for Man.