The world is growing weary of its emperors and kings. Oh! weary, weary, weary of the tyranny that brings No respite to its wretchedness while high the an them rings, And the Devil comes a-riding on the gale! The People, Oh! the People, toiling in the field and mine, To barter for a crust of bread the life that is divine, While robbers sit and gorge on blood, pretending it is wine, And the Devil comes a-riding on the gale! Religion is a mockery, all gods are dumb or dead, And all the world is worshipping the Golden Calf instead. They've hung his neck with ribbons, put a garland on his head— The Devil comes a-riding on the gale! The Devil, but they don't believe in him, no more than God, Although they feel the impress of his hoofs all golden-shod; But in terror he is coming and with an iron rod— He's riding, Ho! he's riding on the gale! The armies march; O, don't you hear the thunder of their tread? The ships of war are sailing out into the sunset red. The plain of Armageddon will be carpeted with dead When the Devil comes a-riding on the gale. The emperor and millionaire, the beggar and the tramp, Will lie together underneath a blanket broad and damp; And over them the coming race will heedless build its camp, The Devil having ridden on the gale. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BETRAND AND GOURGAUD TALK OVER OLD TIMES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SONG OF THE OPEN COUNTRY by DOROTHY PARKER SONNET (6) by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE DADDY STRAIN by KAREN SWENSON NEW YEAR'S DAWN - BROADWAY by SARA TEASDALE |