 | The Last Crusade |  |
17
THE OLD MOON IN THE YOUNG MOON'S ARMS.
Great shotted guns
That roar and rend, the butchered baby lisper,
The surgeon's bloody tool that deftly probes
Red lips of wounds, the riddle of the suns;
A blotted globe's
Shadow that through the ranks of sorrow runs,
Women's black trailing skirts with awful whisper.
Dear God, this second birth
Breaks, by infernos, on the troubled earth.
That roar and rend, the butchered baby lisper,
The surgeon's bloody tool that deftly probes
Red lips of wounds, the riddle of the suns;
A blotted globe's
Shadow that through the ranks of sorrow runs,
Women's black trailing skirts with awful whisper.
Dear God, this second birth
Breaks, by infernos, on the troubled earth.
Darkest ere dawn
The mystery of confusion speaks in thunder,
As spirit fights with matter, and brave souls
Sifted by suffering are divinely drawn.
Imperious goals
Summon them to a path with passion strawn,
And purple night by pain is stabbed asunder.
A better and broader age
Comes to its own, through death its heritage.
The mystery of confusion speaks in thunder,
As spirit fights with matter, and brave souls
Sifted by suffering are divinely drawn.
Imperious goals
Summon them to a path with passion strawn,
And purple night by pain is stabbed asunder.
A better and broader age
Comes to its own, through death its heritage.
Freedom with Might
Contends, and lifts its lordly challenge clearer
Above the petty quarrels of the hour,
Empanoplied in its eternal right;
The scarlet flower
Of justice flames up to the heaven of light,
And clothed in Love's sweet cruelty steps nearer.
While Mercy's penal rod
Falls, as the olive branch that sceptres God.
Contends, and lifts its lordly challenge clearer
Above the petty quarrels of the hour,
Empanoplied in its eternal right;
The scarlet flower
Of justice flames up to the heaven of light,
And clothed in Love's sweet cruelty steps nearer.
While Mercy's penal rod
Falls, as the olive branch that sceptres God.
18
Ghastly as graves
And beautiful as is the maiden morning
Shapes the fresh earth from anguish and by fire,
Its banner on the dead and dying waves;
The world's desire
It bursts the bonds of prisoners and slaves,
And haloes them with power and truth's adorning.
The old cosmos dies,
To bloom again and laugh in liberties.
And beautiful as is the maiden morning
Shapes the fresh earth from anguish and by fire,
Its banner on the dead and dying waves;
The world's desire
It bursts the bonds of prisoners and slaves,
And haloes them with power and truth's adorning.
The old cosmos dies,
To bloom again and laugh in liberties.
For always thence
Flow the chief blessings that the years have sought for,
From grief and madness torn and bitter strife
Through blighted hope and blasted innocence;
Thus only life
Blossoms to beauty and omnipotence,
When it is prayed for still and fiercely fought for.
The weeping and the woes
Are but a new creation's travail throes.
Flow the chief blessings that the years have sought for,
From grief and madness torn and bitter strife
Through blighted hope and blasted innocence;
Thus only life
Blossoms to beauty and omnipotence,
When it is prayed for still and fiercely fought for.
The weeping and the woes
Are but a new creation's travail throes.
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