This -- after nineteen centuries of Christ! Only the primal instincts, bad and good, The primal heart that primal hate sufficed, And not the hero-heart of brotherhood. We murder men in vast and modern ways; We cram with death the water, earth, and air; But still we flounder in primeval haze, And still our fort is but the caveman's lair. We say that God is Love -- and worship Might. We flatter Reason -- then we spit on her. Praising the day, we turn to blackest night, And build our highway to a sepulchre. We prate of Law, but, lawless-hearted still, We get our justice through the widow's moan. We prate of Mind, and yet our vaunted will Achieves its way by brutal force alone. We boast of Progress: hear the orphan's cry, The wails of mother, sister, lover, wife! Full nineteen centuries, and still men die In antique orgies of archaic strife. The Better Way -- how well, how well we know -- That parts forever from the horrid past. O brothers, join to end the ancient woe, And let this worst of warfare be the last! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CARGO MOVING TO GAZA (1988) by MARVIN BELL CHAMBER MUSIC: 14 by JAMES JOYCE BONNYBELL: THE BUTTERFLY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DOMESDAY BOOK: THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TO A MAN WORKING HIS WAY THROUGH THE CROWD by MARIANNE MOORE |