A god is dying, O bewildered ones, A greybeard god, whose zealous warriors Have cowed the dismal world with bellowing guns Until the sky like some vast conch-shell roars. A god is perishing from glut of praise From hypocrites whose tawny talons gleam With secret gold which Judas-bright betrays Sad barter of their high birthright of dream. Let trumpets burn with turbulence of morn! While Jericho cracks down its house of glass. A god is dying and a man is born: Let Mars and all his mangled mourners pass. Here raise the sepulcher of creeds and kings Where peace, the Phoenix, lifts his golden wings! |