Listen to me, ye creeping ants of men, Because of human hearts I snatched and slew, Because of blood poured out, because of blood, I am drawn close to you. Listen, across the quivering sea of roofs Thousands of miles—that cry along the wires! Aerial signals, soundless waves of air Heavy with import, moan of steel-spun spires! I brood above the costliness of the task Through which these human creatures fall consumed. Men, bow the head before the dizzying grave Whose valour and toil to such a death are doomed. This is the harvest you have sowed; Your blood is mixed with mine, with mine; And I, who break you on my fiery wheel, Not Moloch am I, but divine, divine. The pitiless Angel of the Mercenary? Nay, for I too am great, Lifting the vast hopes of the modern world As on the knees of fate. I am Winged Victory at the prow, Oh ye who serve the God of force, Pilgrims that ride the deep with me, Ye, too, shall learn the love that is remorse. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ROBINSON CRUSOE ['S STORY, OR ISLAND] by CHARLES EDWARD CARRYL A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 35 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN AFTER THE PLAY by HAMILTON FISH ARMSTRONG THE MAID OF LLANWELLYN; A SONG by JOANNA BAILLIE THE FLORIDA ORANGE by W. C. BAUGH |