We must live on; a deeper tragedy:
To see, to touch, to know, and to desire;
To feel in every vein the glorious fire
Of Eden, and to cry, "Oh, to be free!"
To cry, "Oh, wipe the gloomy stain away,
Thou who first raised the sword, Who gave the hilt
Into the hand of man. This blood they spilt—
Our fathers—oh, blot out the bitter day!
Erase the hour from out Thy calendar,
Turn back the hands upon the clock of Time,
Oh, Artificer of destroying War—
Their righteous hate who bore us in our crime!"
"Upon the children!"—'Tis the cold reply
Of Him who makes to those who must not die.