Cloyd Head

From “War Sequence”

Night, like a tempest, rends the will of earth,

Braced to a knowledge of the hate ordained

Before new brotherhood.

Welded by iron, a shackled nation, taught

The consciousness of power without freedom;

Deformed at birth, bidden to strike, enslave,

Forge chain to chain, riveting life to darkness.

Prussia!

We could not know—

Faith waits its proof, confirmed only by blood—

How deep the source, ingenerate the need

That seeks its first growth in democracy:

Not till you struck—

A hand menacing all that there was yet to gain

And all that had been gained.

“I will not fight against the youth of Germany.”

Our battle is not won, yet will be won;

Not a defeat of men, but of a wrong.

Can they not hear?

Youth cries to youth, above the clash of war:

The old shall yield before the dream we dream.

Re-find the honor of the Fatherland!

Help us that there may rise

Out of the darkness—Peace with victory!