Page:The Poet in the Desert.djvu/19



POET: Of my heart, I desire you.

TRUTH: Let me touch your eyes.

POET: I see a dark cloud covering the earth, Eating up the sunlight of the world. I hear a distant thunder. At which my flesh shudders.

TRUTH: The groans of the poor.

POET: I see a monster.

His feet are of gold ; his hands are of gold ; Golden is his head ; his legs are golden ; But his heart is of clay. His eyes are red as rubies, And his golden hands are folded upon his swollen belly,

which is of gold ; Into his open maw flows an endless procession: Men with gray faces ; women with sunken eyes, And the little children who have never laughed.

TRUTH: Moloch insatiable!

POET: He sits upon a crimson pedestal.

TRUTH: The blood of men.

POET: It rests upon a great darkness.

TRUTH: The Soul of Man.

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