-2-

Of this Hell of war.

Red piles the pulp of hearts and heads,
Of mothers' tears and daughters' flesh,
And little children's moans.

Allah!

Elohim!

Very God of God:

Death is here!

Dead are the living, deep dead the dead.

Dying are earth's unborn -

The beautiful unborn:

The babes' wide eyes of genius and joy;

Poems and prayers, sun-glows and earth-songs;

Great pictured dreams,

En-marbled phantasies,

High hymning heavens - all,

All writhe and shriek and choke and die

In this dread night,

This long ghost night -

While Thou art dumb.

Have mercy!

Have mercy upon us, miserable sinners!

Hear, we beseech Thee!

Stand forth, unveil Thy face,

Pour down the light

That seeths above Thy throne,

-5-

Awake me, God, I sleep!

What was that awful thing Thou saidst?

That gasp - was it Thine?

This pain - is it Thine?

Are then these bullets piercing Thee?

Have all the worlds of all the world,
Down all dim time, drawn blood from Thee?

Is this Thy crucifixion, God,

And not that funny little cross,
With vinegar and thorns?

Is this Thy kingdom here, not there,

This stone and stucco drift of dreams?

*******

Help!

I sense that low and awful cry -
Who cries?

Who weeps?

With silent sob that rends and tears -
Can God sob?

Who prays?

I hear strong prayers throng by,
Like mighty winds on dusky moors -
Can God pray?

*******

Prayest Thou, Lord, and to me?