Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, AMERICA, by HERBERT KAUFMAN



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First Line: A hundred tsars shall rot to bone
Last Line: And, fruitful, you shall feed them all.
Subject(s): Peace; United States; America


A HUNDRED Tsars shall rot to bone,
A hundred kingdoms shall decline,
A hundred battlefields shall suck
Their glut of sacrificial wine;

The Buddhist priest shall meditate
Where now cathedral crosses gleam;
The sons of Ghengis Khan shall bring
To pass fulfillment of his dream;

The shrill muezzin's chant shall chime
At eventide with Ben Bow's bells;
The kaffir's clucking voice be heard
Where Godlessly now Paris dwells;

The lout shall loll in lordly state;
The beggar's child shall shower dole,
Before your final word is writ
Of honor, on the age's scroll.

Your wish shall will the world to peace,
The weaklings of the earth shall crawl
To suckle at your fruitful breasts,
And, fruitful, you shall feed them all.




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