| |
| HOW came this pigmy rabble spun, | |
| After the gods and kings of old, | |
| Upon a tapestry begun | |
| With threads of silver and of gold? | |
| In heaven began the heroic tale | 5 |
| What meaner destinies prevail! | |
| |
| They wove about the antique brow | |
| A circlet of the heavenly air. | |
| To whom is due such reverence now, | |
| The thought “What deity is there”? | 10 |
| We choose the chieftains of our race | |
| From hucksters in the market place. | |
| |
| When in their councils over all | |
| Men set the power that sells and buys, | |
| Be sure the price of life will fall, | 15 |
| Death be more precious in our eyes. | |
| Have all the gods their cycles run? | |
| Has devil worship now begun? | |
| |
| O whether devil planned or no, | |
| Life here is ambushed, this our fate, | 20 |
| That road to anarchy doth go, | |
| This to the grim mechanic state. | |
| The gates of hell are open wide, | |
| But lead to other hells outside. | |
| |
| How has the fire Promethean paled? | 25 |
| Who is there now who wills or dares | |
| Follow the fearless chiefs who sailed, | |
| Celestial adventurers, | |
| Who charted in undreamt of skies | |
| The magic zones of paradise? | 30 |
| |
| Mankind that sought to be god-kind, | |
| To wield the sceptre, wear the crown, | |
| What made it wormlike in its mind? | |
| Who bade it lay the sceptre down? | |
| Was it through any speech of thee, | 35 |
| Misunderstood of Galilee? | |
| |
| The whip was cracked in Babylon | |
| That slaves unto the gods might raise | |
| The golden turrets nigh the sun. | |
| Yet beggars from the dust might gaze | 40 |
| Upon the mighty builders’ art | |
| And be of proud uplifted heart. | |
| |
| We now are servile to the mean | |
| Who once were slaves unto the proud. | |
| No lordlier life on earth has been | 45 |
| Although the heart be lowlier bowed. | |
| Is there an iron age to be | |
| With beauty but a memory? | |
| |
| Send forth, who promised long ago, | |
| “I will not leave thee or forsake,” | 50 |
| Someone to whom our hearts may flow | |
| With adoration, though we make | |
| The crucifixion be the sign, | |
| The meed of all the kingly line. | |
| |
| The morning stars were heard to sing | 55 |
| When man towered golden in the prime. | |
| One equal memory let us bring | |
| Before we face our night in time. | |
| Grant us one only evening star, | |
| The iron age’s avatar. | 60 |
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