Explore "These Latter Days" by Olive Tilford Dargan on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Take down thy stars, O God! We look not up. / In vain thou hangest there thy changeless sign. / We lift our eyes to power's glowing cup, / Nor care if blood make strong that wizard wine, / So we but drink and feel the sorcery / Of conquest in our veins, of wits grown keen / In strain and strife for flesh-sweet sovereignty, -- / The fatal thrill of kingship over men. / What though the soul be from the body shrunk, / And we array the temple, but no god? / What though, the cup of golden greed once drunk, / Our dust be laid in a dishonoured sod, / While thy loud hosts proclaim the end of wars? / We read no sign. O God, take down thy stars!