Classic and Contemporary Poetry
GODS OF WAR, 1914, by GEORGE WILLIAM RUSSELL Poem Explanation Poet's Biography First Line: Fate wafts us from the pygmies' shore Last Line: And crown thee then without a thorn. Alternate Author Name(s): A. E. Subject(s): Jesus Christ; War; World War I; First World War | ||||||||
Fate wafts us from the pygmies' shore: We swim beneath the epic skies: A Rome and Carthage war once more, And wider empires are the prize; Where the beaked galleys clashed, lo, these Our iron dragons of the seas! High o'er the mountains' dizzy steep The winged chariots take their flight. The steely creatures of the deep Cleave the dark waters' ancient night. Below, above, in wave, in air New worlds for conquest everywhere. More terrible than spear or sword Those stars that burst with fiery breath: More loud the battle cries are poured Along a hundred leagues of death. So do they fight. How have ye warred, Defeated Armies of the Lord? This is the Dark Immortal's hour; His victory, whoever fail; His prophets have not lost their power: Cæsar and Attila prevail. These are your legions still, proud ghosts, These myriad embattled hosts. How wanes thine empire, Prince of Peace! With the fleet circling of the suns The ancient gods their power increase. Lo, how Thine own anointed ones Do pour upon the warring bands The devil's blessings from their hands! Who dreamed a dream mid outcasts born Could overbrow the pride of kings? They pour on Christ the ancient scorn. His Dove its gold and silver wings Has spread. Perhaps it nests in flame In outcasts who abjure His name. Choose ye your rightful gods, nor pay Lip reverence that the heart denies, O Nations. Is not Zeus to-day, The thunderer from the epic skies, More than the Prince of Peace? Is Thor Not nobler for a world at war? They fit the dreams of power we hold, Those gods whose names are with us still. Men in their image made of old The high companions of their will. Who seek an airy empire's pride, Would they pray to the Crucified? O outcast Christ, it was too soon For flags of battle to be furled While life was yet at the high noon. Come in the twilight of the world: Its kings may greet Thee without scorn And crown Thee then without a thorn. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...D'ANNUNZIO by ERNEST HEMINGWAY 1915: THE TRENCHES by CONRAD AIKEN TO OUR PRESIDENT by KATHARINE LEE BATES THE HORSES by KATHARINE LEE BATES CHILDREN OF THE WAR by KATHARINE LEE BATES THE U-BOAT CREWS by KATHARINE LEE BATES THE RED CROSS NURSE by KATHARINE LEE BATES WAR PROFITS by KATHARINE LEE BATES THE UNCHANGEABLE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN A SUMMER NIGHT by GEORGE WILLIAM RUSSELL |
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