Page:Where the Dead Men Lie.djvu/73

Rh Warm nights, weighted down with wild laughter, When sex is unsexed and uncouth: In the chorus that climbs to the rafter No thought of the days to come after: She has little regret and less ruth As she tempts men to murder their youth.

Is she marked down as yet by the flaming Great eye of the Righter of Wrong? How long ere the Dreaded One, claiming His due, shall make end of our shaming? 'How long, Mighty Father, how long?' Is our wearisome burden of song.