THE MUFFLED DRUMS by PERCY MACKAYE

FOR brothers laid in blood,
For lovers sundered,
Defeated motherhood
And manhood plundered —
We moan, moan the faith of man forgotten.

For human vision bleared
And childhood bleeding,
For ripening harvests sered
Before the seeding —
We mourn, mourn the beauty unbegotten.

We were the wanton ones
In old wines sunken,
Who sent the nations' sons
Forth, reeling drunken
With blare and rhythm of war's ruthless glory.

Now in our pulse no more
The old wines quicken,
For the bannered glory of war
Trails draggled and stricken,
And the blood-red beast crawls home, blinded and hoary:

But we are the beating hearts
Of women, whose yearing
Shall harass the beast with darts
Of their myriad burning
Till the Angel of God remould him — an image human.

Yea, we are the chanting wills
Of women, whose sorrow
Rebels at the age-borne ills
Of a man-built morrow,
And we chant, chant the world redeemed by Woman.

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