Classic Poem

Is it a mocking jest that Christmas bells
Chime in this tragic hour of strife and pain,
That in the misery of conflicting wills
Breathless, men whisper words of love again?

Is it a jest that Europe's stainless snows
In beauty mask her burning, bleeding scars,
Where man's blaspheming thunder comes and goes? —
Is this unholiest his last of wars?

Is this the freedom that we bought so dear, —
To live among the wolf-pack in a cage,
Spurr'd by a Sycorax to hate and fear —
Ingenious brutes that cower and kill and rage?

Have we no further end, no nobler plan,
No subtler vision and no bolder will?
Is this the creature that we called a man?
Is this the jungle that we live in still?

Be dumb! ye bells, nor wake the frosty air
With joyful clamor while the nations bleed;
Let sorrow's silence speak a people's prayer
Whose legion'd sons lie crucified by greed.

Be dumb, sweet bells: or ring more wild and clear,
Proclaim a sunrise on youth's Calvary!
Ring out the madness with the dying year,
Let nations pass so Man himself be free!