THAT THE COUNTRY IS NOT THE FOUNDATION OF THE COMMUNITY

Now Brotherhood has been so cut to shreds
That in the stead of the community
The Country has been given pride of place
In menís allegiance and constructive work;
The Country is the darling of their hearts,
And wide humanity is whittled down
Into dismembered tribes. Men thought to find
Paradise in that miserable abode
Of ruin where they made the peoples dwell.
This tree has banished heaven from the world
And borne for fruit the bitterness of war;
Humanity is but a legend, man
Become a stranger to his fellow-man.
The spirit has departed from the flesh,
Only the seven disjointed limbs remain;
Vanished is humankind, there but abide
The disunited nations. Politics
Dethroned religion, this tree first sruck root
Within a Western garden, and the tale
Of Christianity was all rolled up,
The radiance of the Churcheís lantern dimmed;
Pope powerless and baffled, from his hand
The counters scattered; Jesusí followers
Spurning the Church; debased the coinage
Of the True Crossís Law. When atheism
Fist rent religionís garment, there arrived
That Satanís messenger, the Florentine
Who worshipped falsehood, whose collyrium
Shattered the sight of men. He wrote a scroll
And like a perfume from the mead departs.
The ringódove builds his nest: the nightingale
Takes wing: the dew drops softly, and the scent
Is sped. What thought these mortal tulips die,
They lessen not the splendour of the spring:
For all the loss, its treasure still abides
Abundant, still the thronging blossoms smile.