Dreams & Dust/The Butchers At Prayer

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!