MAN 7
f happiness I wonder
Whence come the saffron streams?
The bitterness and thunder
Are something less than dreams.
The echoes of the wailing
A race of tortured men
Of hope all unavailing
In sorrow’s wretched glen.
Who taught the ugly lesson
That fear is rod to rule
That Might the drear obsession
Is life’s most valued jewel?
Who sang the song sans merci
And eager made the flog
Made dance a thing subversive
And called man slave and dog?
Who canted hypocritic
Of good opposed to sin
Who founded on diseases
The Mores we drown in?
What of these lies
For good of race
To save our souls
With tong and mace?
Many a devil with steepled hands
Dwells in silk unpining
And many a goodly saintly man
Goes awfully short on dining.
