Put all by save the wind, it will remain Blowing up waste and waste when we are lost, Choosing its circuits, even when the rain Beats at the nerves no more and all is frost. O Comrade, Comrade, sigh not for unreason For in the final and disastrous wars, Half-truth and love will be no more and treason Will quench the blazing lanterns of the stars. How in that chaos, terrible with disaster, Earth desecrated and all loving done, The wind will rise and with a wounded laughter Seek the bright estuaries of the sun, And find no sun, no brook that ever ran, Only the bullet-beaten bones of man. |