Book VIII — War and Peace
War and Peace
These Latter Days
By Olive Tilford Dargan
(From “Path Flower.”)
Take down thy stars, O God! We look not up.
In vain thou hangest there thy changeless sign.
We lift our eyes to power’s glowing cup,
Nor care if blood make strong that wizard wine,
So we but drink and feel the sorcery
Of conquest in our veins, of wits grown keen
In strain and strife for flesh-sweet sovereignty,—
The fatal thrill of kingship over men.
What though the soul be from the body shrunk,
And we array the temple, but no god?
What though the cup of golden greed once drunk,
Our dust be laid in a dishonored sod,
While thy loud hosts proclaim the end of wars?
We read no sign. O, God, take down thy stars!