Explore "To the Troubler of the World" by Various on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
At last we know you, War-lord. You, that flung / The gauntlet down, fling down the mask you wore, / Publish your heart, and let its pent hate pour, / You that had God for ever on your tongue. / We are old in war, and if in guile we are young, / Young also is the spirit that evermore / Burns in our bosom ev'n as heretofore, / Nor are these thews unbraced, these nerves unstrung. / We do not with God's name make wanton play; / We are not on such easy terms with Heaven; / But in Earth's hearing we can verily say, / "Our hands are pure; for peace, for peace we have striven"; / And not by Earth shall he be soon forgiven / Who lit the fire accurst that flames to-day.
WILLIAM WATSON