The Insurrection of the Dead
FROM war to war the wheels of Progress gleamed, Dictator to dictator, chain to chain,
Carnage to lordlier carnage ; till it seemed Men had a lust for misery. Yet they dreamed Always of joy's red lips to cone again.
As the drunkard grips his poison, still they caught, hi dread of death, at slaughter. Tense of will, Into their world of torment still they brought Children to carry on the light they fought, Mourned for their dead, and marched once more to kilL Until at last. the " final " struggle loomed And East faced West to wrestle for the world. But on the morning when the first gun boomed, Like a last gas-cloud on a planet doomed From the earth's fissures a grey vapour curled.
In every land men watched it, slowly blown
Rise, like the mist from evening fields, that morn ; Till shapes took form there faintly, known, unknown, Faces that long had dropt to dust and bone—
The dead had risen, to rescue the unborn.
Above their graves that grey fog floated wide, Swayed in the winds of morning, nearer drew The son saw his dead father by his side, Once more the lover felt, whose love had died, A last long kiss of peace from lips he knew.
Then, as a fog-bank swallows up the day, So where the armies of the dead had passed, Through the five continents a stillness lay. From the earth's face man's life had crept awayi The tired dead could rest in peace at last.
F. L. Luc:As.
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