Classic Poem

What are poets? Are they only drums commanding?
—Trumpets snarling, moving men to hate and ravage?
Were their songs of war the snares of Trade demanding
—Lives, and binding men to gods senile and savage?

What are soldiers? Only power, to be broken
—On the wheels of Business when there is no battle?
“War to end war,” was that but falsely spoken?
—Whom has war set free? Have rifles stopped their rattle?

Many suffer hunger while the few still plunder.
—Dreams of peace and brotherhood are all undone.
Let poets' songs boom loud with love's own battle thunder!
—War has ended? No, the war has just begun.

What are poets? Are they only drums commanding?
Trumpets snarling, moving men to hate and ravage?
Were their songs of war the snares of Trade demanding
Lives, and binding men to gods senile and savage?

What are soldiers? Only power, to be broken
On the wheels of Business when there is no battle?
“War to end war,” was that but falsely spoken?
Whom has war set free? Have rifles stopped their rattle?

Many suffer hunger while the few still plunder.
Dreams of peace and brotherhood are all undone.
Let poets' songs boom loud with love's own battle thunder!
War has ended? No, the war has just begun.