If What We Worship Fail

Fifteen Millions Of Soldiers With Popguns And Horses All Bent Upon Killing, Because Their "of Courses" Are Not Quite The Same.

Time! Joyless Emblem Of The Greed Of Millions, Robber Of The Best Which Earth Can Give.

On The Neck Of The Young Man Sparkles No Gem So Gracious As Enterprise. Youth Condemns; Maturity Condones.

Freighted With Hope, Crimsoned With Joy, We Scatter The Leaves Of Our Opening Rose.

Brighter Than Fireflies Upon The Uji River Are Your Words In The Dark, Beloved.