 | The Way of the Winepress |  |
A POISONOUS HERITAGE.
THE minds of those who dwell in this our dayWith the heaped heritage of many an age
Are, with the fear, the grief, the impotent rage,
Poisoned of pain bygone and past affray;
And in their hearts the horror and dismay
Of many a bloodstained grim historic page.
When false Gods revelled on the worldly stage,
Too deep are graven for Time to wash away.
So intimate the impress, so sore the strain
Of the rememorance of ancestral woe
Is on each fibre of the heart and brain,
That the whole force and fabric of their will
Is weakened grown and they no longer know
Wholly to love the Good or hate the Ill.
| The Way of the Winepress | |