Facing a cold and sneering sky, Cold as the sneering hearts of men, A man began to prophesy, To speak of love and faith again. Boldly he spoke, and bravely dared The savage jest, the kindlier stone; The armies mocked at him; he fared To battle gaily—and alone. Alone he fought; alone, to move A world whose wars would never cease— And all his blows were struck for love, And all his fighting was for peace... They tortured him with thorns and rods, They hanged him on a frowning hill— @3And all the old and heartless gods Are laughing still.@1 |