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Rose-petals, delicately pink.

It feeds upon babes, blinking innocently e'er they have

waked to the morning. It gluts upon the breasts of mothers, which are so white. And upon the hearts of resolute men, which are so red. Its wings are death ; its eyes are graves ; Destroyer of the Soul.

POET: And if the State should die, whore of Force and prostitute of Privilege?

TRUTH: Then peace in freedom, and in freedom, peace. The law of Self made beautiful. Man shaking out his plumes unto the sun. Poets whose songs shall hold the ages listening ; Painters of visions,

Sculptors of gods, for men shall be as gods In temples of grandeur;

Where happily the people shall worship Beauty. Brotherhood shall be one with selfishness, Gone war; gone violence; gone brutal brows; Gone poverty, oppression, crime and degradation. Across the earth shall gleam Freedom, As welcome unto men of weary soul as waking of a

summer day Unto the dawn-mad anarchy of birds.

POET: But see the earth stretches black, a putrid swamp. Whence waves continually a forest of thin reeds. ^

TRUTH: The arms of the drowning Poor, reaching up for life.

POET: Why, even birds do sing and lambs do laugh.

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