Poetry Archives

Each nation as it draws the sword
  And flings its standard to the air
Petitions piously the Lord—
  Vexing the void abyss with prayer.

O irony too deep for mirth!
  O posturing apes that rant, and dare
This antic attitude!  O Earth,
  With your wild jest of wicked prayer!

I dare not laugh . . . a rising swell
  Of laughter breaks in shrieks somewhere—
No doubt they relish it in Hell,
  This cosmic jest of Earth at prayer!